Not Your Average Paradise
by Venice.Luna.Blanche
Summary: Sequel to TOS. Steve is roped into another operation with ridiculously high stakes and the probability of a violent death. And, of course, this time there's the added pressure of getting his partner out of harm's way before all hell breaks loose...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Finally- the sequel to TOS has arrived, after much strife. I've completed it, so you needn't worry about updating.

Also: I enjoy Whump. Just an FYI- you can pretty much expect it from me. I've already- in this story line alone- beaten the shit out of Steve and shot him in the chest. In other story arcs of mine, my Dexter-ish pleasures become apparent; I do quite a bit of physical and psychological damage to the boys. I'm just looking for new and improved ways now. I've really needed to get creative.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the online publication of this story.

* * *

_McGarrett Residence, Saturday 0700 hours_

Danny grimaced. It was, in part, because- even at seven o'clock in the _morning_- Hawaii managed to be one hundred and eighty degrees. Mostly, however, Danny grimaced because of the awkward paradox that was presenting itself to him.

Here he was, at some ungodly hour on a Saturday, knocking on Steve McGarrett's door. Okay, so he wasn't knocking as much as he was walking up the front steps, already planning to walk in uninvited. Still, normally it was Steve who was not knocking at _his_ door on their day off, not the other way around.

But not today. Oh no, not today, because today Danny just had to get a call from the Governor herself at six in the morning, demanding that he go and find out why McGarrett wasn't answering her calls.

So he found himself, grumbling and grimacing and just plain unhappy in general, making his way over to his wayward Partner's house, hoping that _this_ time, he didn't get himself shot.

Of course, knowing Steve, Danny really couldn't rule out anything.

The McGarrett house was unusually quiet when Danny stepped in, and he couldn't help but let his mind wander to a place where Steve had up and left, back on assignment like last time. Last time- when he dragged the Russian conflict all the way back to Oahu and then proceeded to get himself shot in the chest. Danny really hoped that wasn't the case- he could only take so much before dying prematurely of a brain aneurism.

"Steve?" He yelled up the stairs, not expecting a reply. It was well past seven- the SEAL would have been up for at least an hour at this point. Crazy- ass ninja and his strange, military sleep habits.

Receiving no word, he whipped out his phone, dialed, and pressed the device to his ear, hoping Steve would make his life that much easier and just answer.

Of course, that was impossible when Steve's phone rang ten feet to the left, alerting Danny to the fact that his partner's only means of communication was laying uselessly on the kitchen counter.

Danny began to panic slightly- the last time this happened…

He was two seconds away from calling Chin and Kono when the front door burst open. Danny, assuming Steve was just making an entrance, whipped around. The snarky comment died on his lips when the doorway did not reveal his partner coming back from a morning run through the jungle, and instead showed three rather ominous looking meatheads.

The one in front, perhaps the ugliest Danny thought, looked at him intensely. He was large, overtly hairy, and had a perpetual sneer plastered on his flat face. He fingered the gun on his hip, eyeing Danny's tie and slacks with a leer. Danny thanked whatever god there may be that his badge was sitting in the glove compartment of his car.

"Who're you?" The front man asked, his voice belaying that he himself was just as much of a Ha'ole as Danny. It sounded Spanish- maybe Caribbean. His tanned skin and dark eyes would attest to that.

"He's my guy." Danny whipped around once more- feeling as though he might develop whiplash- to stare at the back door.

There, in all his annoying smug SEAL glory, was Steve McGarrett. He was dressed for running, Danny noted, and appeared to have just gotten back from the beach- if the sand on his trainers was any proof. He didn't really look at Danny, but rather looked past him to the three men in the front hall.

"He's with me, Diaz. You gotta problem with that?" Steve asked, using much the same tone and grammar as the man in the hall. Danny's heart sunk. He'd seen this Steve once before, and that case had almost killed the both of them.

"I don't like new people, Sawyer. And what the hell's he wearing?" Diaz asked, staring at the tie around Danny's neck. He bristled with irritation; the last thing he wanted was _more_ people who had something against the ties he wore.

Steve gave Danny a look that told him a) don't say shit, and b) I'm your superior in this scenario so do what I tell you to do.

"He's a cop." Diaz lurched. Danny almost did, too. At the last moment he caught himself, but he was seething. _What the hell, McGarrett?_

"Relax hombre," Steve said, and Danny was not surprised to find Steve had no trouble with the Spanish intonation. "He's bent. He's our ticket inside."

"I don't like it, Sawyer. I don't like them at all."

"Good thing you're not paid to care then, Diaz," Steve replied, adding just the appropriate amount of nastiness. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"Lorento sent me. He says you got the stuff he needs. That true?"

"I got what he needs."

"Give it to me."

"What, so you can cut me out of the deal and tell Lorento you did it yourself? So you can put a bullet in my head? I don't think so. Leave, and I'll meet you tomorrow."

Diaz was fuming, his flat face contorted even more in terrible anger.

"Dame las armas ahora, Sawyer, y esta no será mala!" He cried, spitting Spanish back at Steve, who remained passive but clearly wary.

"No. Esto es entre nosotros y Lorento, Díaz. Deja ahora y no voy a tener que matarte en frente de esta policía." Steve bit back menacingly, and, seemingly out of nowhere, produced a gun. It was held loosely at his side, but the safely was off. Diaz got the gist.

"Tomorrow, _amigo_. Lorento won't be happy to hear you've been running with a cop or hiding his products. He'll hear about this."

Steve said nothing more as Diaz and the two nameless goons turned and marched out of the door, slamming it behind them.

Silence. Ten seconds passed, and the sound of screeching tires could be heard coming from outside.

Finally, after all sounds of a car died away, Steve relaxed. The gun found its way to the kitchen counter, and Steve leaned against the granite surface, putting a hand to his face to rub his eyes.

Danny stared at him, but it was apparent he wasn't going to speak.

"What the hell, Steve? What was that? And who the hell were those people? And what did he say?"

Without looking up, Steve spoke- the sound of his voice slightly muffled by the hand in front of his face.

"They're Columbian drug runners. Diaz asked me nicely for something, and I politely declined." Danny resisted the urge to kick the taller man in the shin.

"Of course they are. Why where they in your house?"

Steve sighed monumentally. Danny noted that he absently rubbed his chest in the same place where he'd been shot just a few short months ago. Danny frowned- it shouldn't hurt after so long, but he supposed that if anybody could prolong an injury, it would be Steve. The man was a magnet for any kind of trouble anywhere in a 50 mile radius of him. He should just go ahead and be superman, because at least then he'd be bulletproof.

"Have you ever heard of the Asesinos?"

"Yeah, they're a gang from Nevada. Word is, they moved down here to take Chinese girls back to Vegas and turn them into prostitutes." Danny frowned, hating everything about the Asesinos. He could just imagine what it would be like to be the father of one of those girls. If they did that to _his_ daughter, then, well… they wouldn't find the bodies.

"Exactly. Except that they have a hand in the firearms business, too. Two nights ago I got a call from the governor, and apparently Raul Lorento and his merry band of miscreants were coming to the island from Columbia to do business with the Asesinos. Lorento wants to exchange Asesino weapons for more than a hundred kilos of pure Columbian cocaine."

Great. Just fucking great. This couldn't have waited until Monday? Danny was seething.

"Fantastic, what does this have to do with burly men in your house on a Saturday morning?"

Steve shot Danny a look of long- suffering patience, but continued without a snarky comment. "I intercepted communications between the Columbians and the Asesinos and said I was a middle man, and that I could get Lorento what he needed."

"Uh… what?" Danny couldn't really form an intelligible reply- his mind was working overtime. Steve sounded just like he did when he was working the Petrov case, and it was not heartening at all.

"It wasn't that hard, really. I just had one of my guys hide all my info and fabricate a criminal record. Actually," Steve pondered, looking thoughtful for a moment, "It was exceedingly simple. We should remember that…"

Danny bared his teeth in irritation at his partner. Steve was entire too calm about the whole situation.

"So… you just became a criminal, waltzed into a gang deal, and now you're controlling the whole operation? How is that even possible? And, if the governor put you up to this, why in the hell did she have me come and find you and make you answer her calls?"

Steve looked at him. "She must be antsy," he said. "She wants the bust to take place as soon as possible. I think she overlooks the fact that these things take time. And yeah, I did just walk into a gang operation and take over. The Asesinos think I'm Anthony Sawyer- an arms dealer who, lucky for us, no one has met face to face. Who are the Columbians to question?"

"And… where is the real Anthony Sawyer?"

Steve eyed his partner, reluctant to say anything. Danny tapped his foot impatiently.

"He's on vacation."

"What did you do, McGarrett?"

"I asked him very nicely to take a small vacation."

"Bullshit."

"… You're just going to bitch."

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Steve sighed again, and Danny could see he was resigning himself to whatever may happen next. It made Danny want to cringe- it couldn't be good.

"I drugged him and dropped him off in a hotel on Kauai. He's being detained for public drunkenness at the Police Station there, and it will take until at least until Monday for him to get out."

Danny stared at Steve. The man was still calm, even as he told his partner about drugging and framing an arms dealer. And yet, all Danny could say was, "How did you get to Kauai and back so fast?"

"How do you think?"

"Is this where you tell me you hijacked a Navy ship and commandeered the crew to do your maniacal bidding?"

"Of course not, that's ridiculous... I borrowed a plane. It took no time at all. In fact, I did it yesterday morning."

Danny gaped. "You flew to _Kauai_ and back before work?"

Steve eyed him. "Believe it or not, I have done this before."

"You've flown a criminal to another island in a hijacked airplane and framed him for a petty crime, all before breakfast?"

"Not _that_- that was new. But I am very good at the rest of it."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"It probably shouldn't," Steve said, leaning back against the counter again and replacing the fallen hand to his face, rubbing his jaw tiredly. "We may have just blown the whole thing."

"WHAT? What the hell did I do? You're the one who told them I was a _cop_!"

"Well, of course I did. What the hell else could you be looking like that?"

"Oh, I don't know, a businessman. A banker. A fucking_ waiter_ for all I care."

"Have you ever actually _been_ to Waikiki? Or Kailua? Nobody there looks like that. Plus, they would have killed anyone else on the spot. Despite being completely useless at it, they _are_ trying to stay quiet; killing a cop would have been way too publicized. I saved your sorry ass, Williams, but I just don't know how much damage it did in the long run."

Danny huffed, and fell back into one of the stools in from of the counter where his partner leaned. He didn't know what to say, really.

"This is ridiculous. You are not an active member of the Navy- you shouldn't have to do this anymore."

Steve turned to look out at the morning sun that shone down on the beach. "I have to keep my island safe, Danny," he said quietly, not looking at him. "How else are we going to catch these bastards?"

"Hmmm… maybe we could, you know, conduct a stake out, or a raid. It's called police work, Steve."

"Don't you think they've tried that already? The Asesinos are good, and the Columbians are better. You won't catch them with a stake out."

"You just said that they were completely useless."

"No, I said they were useless at keeping quiet. Normally the Columbians- and even the Asesinos- just go ahead and overtly do whatever the hell they want."

"So, this could get really bloody really fast."

"Exactly."

Danny heaved a great sigh, hating himself for agreeing that a stake out probably wouldn't work.

"So where does that leave us?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow to basically do the exchange. They have a boat coming in with all the cocaine, and we're supposed to have the guns ready for them at the docks."

"Every time you do anything with a dock, you get shot and I get my face bashed in."

"Once. One time that happened."

"One time is plenty, thanks-"

"_Anyway_," Steve cut off the rest of Danny's would- be rant. "Now that they know you're involved, things have changed. The Columbians work fast, and by now both they and the Asesinos will know who you are. They don't play games, Danny. They're going to have leverage tomorrow, and if something goes wrong, they're going to kill you, me, and anybody else who is connected with you."

Danny froze. His mind was racing- but the only words he could think of fully were _no, please no._

"Gracie…"

Danny turned wide eyes to Steve, and was shocked to see how tired and gaunt his partner looked. His eyes were shadowed and his hand had a slight shake to it. Danny had never seen Steve look so broken- not even after the Petrov case, or when Officer Pinkleman died.

"I'm so, so sorry Danny," he whispered brokenly, not looking directly at him. "You shouldn't be a part of this mess. This is all my fault…"

Danny felt determination and anger rise up inside him, and something snapped. He felt such a fierce protectiveness in that single moment that he knew this case had suddenly become his responsibility just as much as it was Steve's. But he also knew that it wasn't Steve's fault that he was in danger.

"Steve? HEY! Listen to me," Danny physically shook his partner. "This is _not_ your fault. How the hell could you have known they were going to show up? We're going to do this right, Steve. We're going to keep Chin and Kono and Gracie- and hell, even Stan and Rachel- safe from these bastards. And we're going to make sure nothing goes wrong tomorrow, because I'm going to be there with you."

"Danny, no!" Steve said vehemently, glaring at his partner. Danny was unfazed, however, and held his ground. He knew there was not a chance in hell he was going to stay away- not this time.

"This became my case too the second you said that I was a cop."

That did it; all of the fight left Steve and he seemed to deflate.

"Good. Now, I need to know what to do."

Steve stared for a second, but seemed to snap out of it as he returned to Commander Mode. For once, Danny didn't mind; he knew Steve would be completely focused and an emotional hardass for the remainder of the case in Commander Mode, and the best way to keep his Ohana safe was Rambo Steve.

"Right, " he said in his clipped, no nonsense tone, and Danny sensed the slight emotional breakdown was long gone at this point, completely run over by the scarier, SEAL side of McGarrett's brain. "We need to contact Chin and Kono, but we need to do it _very _quietly. We're going to have tails on us now, so discretion is key. I can't be seen near HQ, but you can."

Steve turned hard eyes to Danny, and Danny couldn't help but feel like a young soldier being sized up for a mission. He stood a little taller.

"Go to HQ, go about your day normally; do paperwork, talk to HPD, whatever you want- they can't get ears inside HQ itself, but they will have eyes on the building and any visual they get has to sell. Get a message to Chin and Kono _in person_- they're going to have your phone tapped. From now on, when you're using any kind of device, you're a dirty cop. Got it?"

Danny nodded and resisted the urge to yell _YES SIR_ and salute.

"Good. After that, go to Rachel's-" Danny made to cut him off but was silenced with a hand. "Go to Rachel's and ask to see Grace. They will have eyes and ears on you, so don't say anything incriminating. Ask Rachel- loudly- if she and Stan are still taking Grace to Lanai tomorrow to see the Garden of the Gods. I'll make sure she know what you mean, and I'll arrange to have Grace, Rachel, and Stan moved to a safe location tonight."

"After you leave Rachel's, come back here. Don't try and shake the tail, and don't be surprised if there are people in here when you arrive. We'll go over the plan of attack when you get here- granted there are no drug lords, criminals, or _real_ dirty cops around. Got it?"

"Yeah," Danny was surprised to find himself breathless. He felt a overwhelmed by everything- as though he was trying to juggle falling vases with his hands behind his back.

"Don't question anything, Danny, and don't _ever_ look nervous. Being nervous will get you killed."

Danny nodded. "Is this how you feel every time you… work the other side?" He asked.

Steve frowned a little. "You get used to it," he said. "You learn to become someone else entirely; it's the only way to keep from going crazy."

Danny nodded again, and asked another question that had been nagging at him for the last several minutes.

"What happens when they look me up and find your face, or video feed of us doing something for the force? What then?"

Steve, despite the severity of the situation, laughed out loud.

Danny frowned, irritated at his partner's obvious lack of concern for his own safety.

"They aren't going to find my face, Danny. Have you ever seen me pose for a newspaper article? Haven't you ever wondered why I always walk on the far left side of the hall when we walk in HQ?"

"You mean… there's not _one_ picture of you in _any_ database?"

"Not one that they can find."

"That's… wow. You're like Sherlock Holmes."

"Uh… what?" Steve raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You know- actually, never mind. I doubt you would understand the reference, anyway."

"That's cute. You do know that I live in the real world, right? I watch movies."

"Really? I would've thought you'd rather spend your time baiting large Samoans and shooting yourself in the foot just for the hell of it."

"Ha ha," Steve said dryly.

Danny, done poking fun at his partner, got serious again.

"Do I need to know Spanish for this little adventure?"

"Why, were you planning on learning between now and tomorrow morning?" Apparently Steve wasn't as serious as Danny at that moment.

"Laugh all you want, Ninja Boy, but- unlike you- I don't speak _four _languages."

"Six."

Danny started. Steve just shrugged.

"Anything else I should know?"

Steve hesitated, and a small faction of the emotion he'd left behind seeped though his calm mask, before his walls flew back up again and it was gone.

"Yeah. When you're out there, you can't be Danny Williams of Five- 0 anymore. You have to be Danny Williams the dirty cop- the mole. If you think like a good guy, you're going to end up dead. You're a criminal, and you have to act like it."

Danny gulped.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Danno?" Steve asked, less harshly than before. "I can put you in protective custody too and just hope to hell they don't catch on- it seemed to work the last time."

"Hell no," Danny said with vehemence. "They threaten Grace, and I'll see to it that they all go down."

Steve smiled slightly. "There's the irritating Jersey boy I know."

"Shut up."

"That's rude," Steve said, and he put his arm on Danny's shoulder and directed him to the front door.

"Remember, you're a dirty cop, Danny," he said as Danny pulled the door open, stepped out and turned to face him. "You're a dirty cop until they're all dead or booked, or until you're arrested for aiding a criminal operation and thrown inside HPD lock up."

Danny looked up at his taller partner, getting an annoyingly familiar ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach- but it was overshadowed by a deep, and inappropriately timed, curiosity.

"What languages do you speak?"

"The important ones."

Danny just let it go and moved on. He would just have to give Steve a few more of the Vicodin he loved so much and _then_ ask him. That's how he learned about the leg, after all. He was half- sure than Steve actually had no recollection of telling Danny that particular story, and Danny had no intention to bring it up again.

"Just curious," Danny said, not quite ready to let it go, "would you have told me about your Sunday morning escapades as an arms dealer had I not walked on your little party this morning?"

Steve seemed to genuinely ponder the question for a moment. "No. Definitely not."

"Great."

"It wouldn't have mattered, really. You would have been exactly the same as you are on every Monday. No one would be the wiser."

"Do you have a lot of weekend playdates with drug dealers that you don't tell us about?"

"Not a lot."

Danny gave an exasperated sigh, but let it go.

"What are you going to do until I get back tonight?" He asked.

Steve just smiled a little and gently closed the door, leaving Danny standing alone on the porch as the early morning sunlight beat down on his head.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I promise to try and keep the action going as long as possible- I know the last chapter was mostly dialogue and I'm sorry. I may blow a few things up or slice somebody or something. You never know.

Well, I do.

Enjoy!

Luna

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

_The Camero. Saturday, 2100 hours._

Danny was, as much as it physically pained him to even think about, following Commander McGarrett's orders to a tee. He had successfully gone to work, sat at his desk for the better part of the morning- doing nothing but stare at the screen on his computer because, really, it was Saturday and he didn't have anything to do- and wandered about the office aimlessly so that anybody who could potentially be watching him would find him to be perfectly mundane.

He considered himself very, _very _lucky that Chin decided to meander in on his day off to get some paperwork to take home. In fact, Danny was sure someone out there in the universe finally decided to cut him some slack, because he was sure that- had Chin not shown up- he would have never gotten the "Steve and I are criminals and we're going to trade gang weapons for Columbian coke" message across.

Lucky for him, though, Chin wandered in around midday. Danny, careful to keep his back to an open window, quietly explained to Chin what was going on and then ask him to find Kono and lay low for the next twenty- four hours just in case the Asesinos or – god forbid- the Columbians decide to try and use either of them as leverage.

To the man's credit, Chin's only visible reaction was a widening of his eyes and a slight crease between the brow. He quickly regained the perpetual stoic expression, however, and did nothing more than give Danny a curt nod and a brief _good luck _before turning and walking back out of the office- taking the back exit just in case.

After ensuring he'd spent a sufficient amount of time at the office, Danny made his way back out into the open. He couldn't help but feel the hairs at the back of his head stand up as he moved from the door to his car. It was as if he could actually _feel_ a pair of eyes watching his progress. He resisted the urge to turn around wildly or run to his car, but could not keep himself from shuddering ever so slightly as the though of how easy it would be for someone to kill him right then and there. He hated to think it, but he begrudgingly- and silently, for he would never admit it aloud- offered his partner a smidgen of newfound respect; it was very hard to know you were being scrutinized by someone who had the potential to murder you in cold blood and walk away without a second thought.

Still, he made it to the car without issue, and he let himself relax when he turned it on and nothing blew up.

By the time he got to Rachel's, however, his guard was back up. He'd been diligently watching his mirrors since he left HQ, and- given that he'd picked the most complicated route to his ex's manor- he found it entirely too coincidental that the black sedan behind him just happened to be going to the same place as he, and happened to pick the same out of the way route.

He parked at Rachel's, and the black car turned to the left. He wasn't fooled; they would park one street over and send out a recon guy. Danny was actually disappointed; really, these guys were one of the _best?_ Gracie could have been more stealthy in her Girl Scout uniform and a wagon full of cookies.

Ah. There it was. Danny, as he walked up to Rachel's gate and turned with the pretense of locking his car, spotted a man walking a dog way too slowly down the opposite side of the street. It was just too simple; the guy was hardly even trying to hide himself.

And then the guy turned and faced Danny directly. Danny's breath caught in his throat; it was one of the faceless goons that had flanked Diaz in McGarrett's house that morning. He looked Danny directly in the eye, but did little else. Remembering he was supposed to be a dirty cop, he gave the man a hearty glare- one usually reserved for Steve. Suddenly, Danny felt impossibly irritated. His morning had started out perfectly benignly, and ten seconds in Steve's house later he was roped into a gang operation as a dirty cop and forced to move his daughter and her other family to god knows where and then stand by and watch as Chin and Kono disappeared.

He couldn't decide of he wanted to be impressed with Steve's ability to do this kind of thing for a living, or throttle the man for bringing him into it. Danny stopped that train of though, though, after remembering the painful, guilty expression on his partner's face that morning. Steve in no way wanted Danny to be a part of this operation, so Danny chose to just be annoyed at Steve for trying to protect him. It was just as satisfying.

The goon across the street was still looking at him, and then another idea hit him like one of Steve's stupidly meaty hands; these guys were smart, and this recon op was way too obvious. They _wanted_ Danny to know he was being watched.

Dread filled him as he realized they meant business. He was in this op now for good.

Giving the man one last glare, Danny turned and stalked to the gate. He was buzzed in unusually quickly, alerting him that Steve probably explained to Rachel what was going on. Danny hid a grimace; he did not envy his partner for having to be the other side of _that_ conversation.

He made his way up the drive without incident, but that did not stop him from wanted to run into the house, take his daughter, and run away from any and all possible dangers.

Rachel, luckily, did not open the door before he could knock- that would have been a tip off- but she did answer uncharacteristically fast. The door flew open and there she stood, eyes wide and completely void of any nasty comment covered with the honey of her pretentious accent.

Danny carefully schooled his features so that, to wandering eyes, he appeared cool and aloof, like anyone else who was meeting their ex would be.

"Rachel," he said, giving her a nod.

"Daniel," she replied, her voice shaking imperceptibly.

"Is Grace home from Jeanette's house yet?"

"Yes, hold on a moment. GRACE!" Rachel called up the stairs without preamble, alerting to Danny the severity of her worry.

Grace, of course, was completely oblivious to any kind of danger. She appeared at the top of the stairs, and bounded down in typical childish delight to greet her father by throwing her arms around his neck.

"Danno!" She cried, her voice like bells to Danny. He relished the sound and- just for a second- let himself forget that he had to let her go in a few hours so that he and his hero- complex wackjob partner could get themselves shot by trigger happy foreigners tweaked out on the best coke money could buy.

The reality of his situation came rushing back after a moment, however, and Danny felt his chest constrict a little.

"Hey, Monkey," he said to her, bending down to look her in they eye, "Danno has to work tonight. You think it would be okay if we had pizza next Saturday instead?"

Gracie seemed to contemplate the proposition for a moment, which gave Danny exactly enough time to consider how strange it must sound to the thugs doing surveillance that he made plans with his daughter when he was going to be part of a drug exchange. He decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Okay Danno!" Gracie said. "But tell Uncle Steve that he has to come too so that he can't make you go to work when we have to go eat pizza. And tell him I'll share a pineapple one with him so that you can have one without it."

"Okay, Monkey, I'll tell him."

"And Danno?"

"Yeah Kiddo?"

"Make sure Uncle Steve doesn't go to the hospital. They don't let you eat pizza in the hospital."

Danny was rendered speechless by the innocent statement. Grace had no idea what was going on; it made no sense for her to know the danger her father and favorite Uncle were going to be in the next morning.

"Don't worry, Kiddo, Uncle Steve isn't going to be working with me. He's going to be with Kono and Uncle Chin. But I'll make sure that he stays out of the hospital until Saturday, kay?"

She nodded, content, and didn't question why Steve wasn't working with Danny when they _always_ worked together, which was perfect, because he needed to leave Steve out of the equation entirely. It wouldn't do any good for the Asesinos or the Columbians to make the connection between Steve McGarrett and Anthony Sawyer. Danny still though it ridiculous- and begrudgingly respectable- that his partner managed to ensure that no accessible database (beyond the Navy, he supposed, but that didn't really count as accessible) had his picture. Sure, there were pictures, just none available to the public, or even anyone willing to dig deep enough to try and find him. It was actually a little sad to think that- god forbid Steve suddenly kick the bucket- the only tangible evidence of his undeniable heroism would reside only in the minds of the people her served with and helped.

Danny snapped himself out of his reverie in time to give his daughter a huge hug and wave goodbye as she bounded back up the stairs. He turned back to Rachel, who watched the exchange without comment. She appeared visibly shaken now, and Danny knew it was time to leave before anybody else noticed.

"You guys still taking her to Lanai tomorrow?" Danny asked, trying very hard _not_ to sound like the whole thing was a major scam.

"Yes, Stan's been wanting to take her to the Garden of the Gods for ages." Danny breathed a mental sigh of relief when she played her part perfectly, and silently thanked Steve for getting the message across to her before he arrived.

Danny nodded, satisfied. And then a though struck him. A horrible, terrifying though. They _knew_ that Danny knew they were watching him. They wanted him to know. It would sound completely stupid that he just laid bare his family's plans to these bastards.

_Shit. Shit shit shit! _How could he not have though of this before? How could he have been so careless? How could he- was that Stan in the hallway?

Sure enough, the bane of his existence was walking toward them, phone in hand any eyes uncharacteristically wide. He planted a kiss on his wife's cheek, but his eyes did not leave Danny's.

Stan's gaze was too long, and too foreboding. All at once Danny knew.

_Thank you, you ridiculously helpful Neanderthal._ Danny breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Hey Danny," Stan began, disconcertingly civil towards the detective. "That was my brother Mickey. Turns out He's on the big island, so we're going to see him tomorrow and Monday. I'm sorry if that changes the custody schedule a whole lot."

Danny felt like singing. Or thanking the Hawaiian gods that his partner was secretly a ninja assassin capable of things that defy reality. Not that Danny would ever admit that.

"Nah, Stanny boy, its cool. Rachel and I have a new schedule worked out anyway. Tell Gracie Danno loves her. Have fun on the big island tomorrow."

Relieved, he bid a final goodbye and made his way back to the car.

The hulking man across the street was still watching him. Knowing full well that his family was going to be moved in the dead of night and that not one of these druggy bastards would know where to find them, he gave the brute a great big wink before sliding into the seat and pulling away.

* * *

Upon his return to the McGarrett house after leaving Rachel's , Danny was relieved that none of his partner's ominous predictions came true; he was not assaulted on his way into the house and nobody called attention to themselves. The house was wonderfully void of criminals, too.

"Steve!" He called, wandering inside. He took note of the fact that the normally immaculate house looked like a debriefing room; papers were scattered everywhere around the living room, jumbled together with pictures of various pictures, maps of the island, and diagrams of things Danny didn't even begin to try and understand.

"Yeah?"

Danny jumped and whipped around. Steve stood a few feet behind him. He stood in a typical relaxed military stance- feet shoulder width apart and hands behind his back- as he eyed, not Danny, but rather the massive culmination of gang paraphernalia around him.

"You're going to give me whiplash," Danny groused, momentarily forgetting why he was here as irritation prickled within him.

"I've been standing there for five minutes at least. Its not my fault you're exceptionally unobservant."

"Forgive me for being a little distracted. What's all this?" Danny asked, indicating towards the mess that was Steve's living room.

"That's everything for tomorrow."

Danny gaped. "All of this?" He asked, "All for one little stake out?"

Steve turned with a sense of forced patience about his tense form. "One," he said, rolling his eyes and counting off with his fingers, "this is _not_ a little stake out. You and I are monitoring a multimillion dollar drug exchange and basically keeping a gang lord from taking control of a struggling, cocaine based nation that has the potential to flood the American street with drugs. Two, I do this much prep for every op I do… you've just never seen it. It's not my fault that you assume I do everything hot- headedly and without thinking."

Danny stared at the man before him, slightly surprised. "Kudos to you; I had no idea they taught SEALs how to actually plan. Or was that the Boy Scouts?"

"Boy Scouts, definitely."

"By the way… how the _hell_ did you manage to save my ass back at Rachel's?" He asked. "That was you, wasn't it? Uncle Mickey? Not very creative I must say."

Steve smirked. He gave Danny a thoughtful look and then said, "What do you think I've been doing all day, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for you to show up?"

"You mean you've been following me _all _day?"

Steve paused. "Yes," he said after a moment.

"How has nobody seen you? How did _I _not see you? And, for that matter, how did the perps not see you?"

"Believe it or not, Danny, I have done this before. I did it for a living, remember? I became rather good at not being noticed."

"… How often do you follow me?"

Steve smirked again. It was beginning to get on Danny's nerves. "Don't worry, Danno," he said, "you're boring. What reason could I possibly have to follow you around- on the few days I don't see you anyways- just to watch you grocery shop?"

"I think I should be offended."

"Probably."

"Right. I'm offended."

"Just thank me for saving your ass and we'll move on."

Danny grunted, annoyed, but offered his thanks all the same.

"Well okay then," Steve walked precisely over to the table and sat down at the couch in front of it. Danny followed suit. Steve flattened out the various scraps of paper- some with his military script all over them- so that they could go through each one in turn.

"Right, Danno," Steve began, sounding entirely too much like a military Commander in that moment, "I have a plan. It's simple, but it has to be perfect, so listen closely and try to be a good boy and not interrupt."

"I do not interrupt."

"You are the walking definition of the word interrupt. Now be quiet and pay attention."

Danny begrudgingly closed his mouth and perked up his ears as Steve laid out the plan for him for the next day. It was, to Steve's credit, well thought out. It involved more acting than Danny was comfortable with- he did sports in high school, not theater- but it still seemed pretty straight forward. It also seemed that Steve though of every possible scenario and made a point to brief Danny on what in do in case of certain emergencies. Like who to shoot if the op went to hell, and when he should say certain things. Steve also told him when he should drop the façade and run like hell, but that part of the conversation was less comfortable.

"Promise me," Steve had said seriously after telling him when to run.

"That's insane, McGarrett. You're insane."

"I'm smart. You're completely green, Danny. You have a family- a daughter. Worst case scenario, run like hell and don't look back."

"You told me just this morning not to blow my cover even if I was arrested."

"Yes… _arrested. _If it means the difference between life and death, I don't care if you have to wear your 'Danny Williams is a good cop' sandwich board and ring your bell. You do whatever the hell you have to to get back to Grace."

"Yeah? And what the hell are you going to do?"

"I can go deeper if I have to."

"And what if you're compromised again?"

"I've survived my fair share of GSW"s. What's one more, really?"

"This is ridiculous."

"If you don't agree, I'm forcing you into protective custody with Rachel and Grace and I will ship you off the island if I have to."

"I hate you so much."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you live to see your daughter again. This is not a typical stake out, Danny. These are not low- life thugs. They will kill you if they even _sense_ disloyalty, and then they'll go after Grace just for the hell of it."

That did it. Danny made a sincere promise, though he hated it, to tuck his tail and run if the op went to shit. Still, he couldn't help but think that Steve had jinxed the whole thing just by making Danny make the promise. If things went bad, Danny reserved the right to say 'I told you so' to his partner- just before they got blow up or strapped to cement blocks and sent to the bottom of the ocean, of course.

The rest of the plan was laid out for Danny in detail. It basically involved him keeping his mouth shut and letting Steve do all the negotiating, but if he was questioned he was to say that Steve was paying him off to keep the cops in the dark about the whole op, and he was there to ensure the drugs were not found by the police in the long run.

Danny could tell Steve- though still operating in Rambo Mode- was apprehensive about the whole thing.

"Steve, it's going to be fine."

Steve sighed, and Danny glimpsed a brief second of the emotion from this morning. Steve looked… tired.

"You don't understand, Danny. This-" he indicated to filed and maps on the table- "is exceedingly dangerous. It doesn't look like a typical stake out at all. The Russian case you experienced was actually sloppy and hastily put together. It's a wonder we weren't compromised earlier."

"I understand, Steve…"

"But you don't," the man replied with vehemence. " The whole idea of what I did was to get rid of the people and organizations that the United States wanted gone by any and all means necessary. That lead to some nasty places, Danny, with nasty people. I've had to lie, cheat, steal, kill, and do a whole bunch of horrible things to get the job done. And the reason this was my specialty in the first place was that I had endurance. I could _endure_. This takes a huge physical and psychological toll on you. Not only do you have to become a person you hate, but you have to enter a situation with the mindset that you could very well die. The mission is the job- the kill. You as a person are expendable. If you die, you die. Getting compromised isn't uncommon and neither is torture. I… I don't want you to have to experience the things that I've experienced."

A deep silence fell between the two as Danny contemplated his words. It was, quite possibly, the longest speech Steve had ever said. He wasn't normally a man of particular emotional expression, but this… well… Danny was certain he'd glimpsed past the walls the SEAL had created to protect himself and seen just a fraction of what the man was really like. His fears made Danny want to shudder with apprehension, but it also made him want to do the operation even more.

"Steve," Danny began, looking the man straight in the eye, "I know it's hard for you to accept having me on a op when you're used to a slew of young, cocky gunslingers who signed up with the death warrant already in place, but I am perfectly capable of handling myself. If the op goes to shit- while I will be utilizing my right to say I told you so- It won't be _your_ fault in the slightest. You've done nothing but try and protect me, and now I'm telling you that you don't have to anymore. I'm with you, brah."

Steve looked at him for a long moment, and Danny knew the walls were back up and all he was going to get was a sarcastic façade. That was okay, though, because at least now he knew that Rambo could experience real, human emotion.

"Since when do you say 'brah'?" Steve asked. Danny rolled his eyes. There it was- that damn cocky SEAL personality.

"Har har. You're funny. If you're going to bitch about my vocabulary, you can call in your SEAL buddies and ask _them_ to help you with the goddamn operation."

"I can't. They're halfway across the world."

"Really?" Danny was genuinely curious- he'd taken a liking to the team that had assisted them in the Russian case. They seemed to make Steve appear like less of a complete ninja freak. "Where?"

"I can't say."

"Of course you can't. Are they... you know… _working the other side_?"

"Can't say. And you don't have to emphasize it like that, Danno. Its just a street name- you can call it whatever the hell you want."

"So… you're a spy."

"You can't call it that. That's Langley stuff. And that's not _all_ I did for six years with the SEALs, you know. I just happened to be very good at it when the need arose."

"Fine then, Super Spy, what else did you do with the SEALs?"

"Why do you even ask? You know I can't say."

"That's fine, I'll just get you doped up on Vicodin and ask again."

Steve eyed him warily. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing."

"… Right. Anyway, are you completely, one hundred percent sure that you're ready?"

Danny paused, but he knew that he already knew the answer.

"Yes."

"Good. Just remember, the Asesinos will arrive first and we'll rendezvous with them. I've already met with their leader down here- a guy named Zatori- to discuss the best way to do the exchange."

"Are your days, like, twice as long as everybody else's? When did you have time to meet with Zatori?"

"It's really not important."

"Uh huh. So you met with this guy Zatori…"

"Yeah, I met with him and we decided the best exchange would be straight forward. The Columbians have about eleven million dollars- street value- of coke. The Asesinos are going to trade them literally thousands of military grade weapons for it. It's a big op, so be wary of the swarm of… bad guys."

"You're such a child."

"I'm offended. Go home. Meet me at the docks tomorrow at 0700 hours. Be prepared."

That was all that was said for the rest of the night as Danny, for the second time that day, found himself on the other side of the McGarrett family front door.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I've decided to start beating the living daylights out of someone. Also, I plan on having an ass kicking party. And don't hate me if I drag characters into the conflict. A necessary evil, I assure you.

Sorry the first two were so very, very dull. I needed to set the premise.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the online publication of this story.

* * *

Steve awoke, as he always did, when the first rays of sunlight hit his face from the east- facing window. Dawn in Hawaii was always a sight to see- the great yellow sun peeking out on the orange water and pink sand- and he always enjoyed rising with the first semblance of day.

Today, however, there was no appreciation for the sunrise. No appreciation for anything, really. Just the familiar feeling of grim determination that followed him on every mission he had ever prepared for.

Steve hauled himself out of bed. Wearing only his boxer shorts, he took a moment to massage out the kinks in his thigh. It was an old injury- shrapnel from an IED- but the metal rods in his legs still protested loudly after any sort of disuse. Finally able to walk normally, he quickly showered, dressed, and hurried downstairs. It was still quite early, and so he still had enough time to go over the plan once more and work out any kinks he could find.

It may have been borderline paranoia, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Not today. Not when Danny's life was involved. Sure, he had worked with others before- in fact, team ops were generally the norm- but never before had he been directly responsible for a life that a) was so close to him, and b) didn't actually sign up for the mission. And who had no experience with this kind of work. The whole thing put Steve on edge.

Still, he knew what he was doing and he knew that he would- at all costs- keep Danny safe. Especially since Steve was also responsible for the safety of his family. He'd gotten the confirmed call the night before- hours after Danny left- from secure line. Rachel, Stan, and Gracie were all still on the island, so as to throw off any potential thugs on the trail, and were being held up at a safe house in Kailua with a round the clock rotation of HPD officers and strict orders not to leave until Steve called.

Steve had made it a point not to tell Danny where his family was. He knew it killed him not to know, but the Commander was trying to play it safe. If they were compromised and- god forbid- it ended in torture, the less Danny knew the better. It wasn't that Steve didn't trust him; he trusted Daniel Williams entirely and uncompromisingly. But there was no denying that, even with all the experience the Jersey native had, he was certainly _not_ well versed in the fine art of enduring torture.

Steve was.

So, if they were made and then strapped to chairs and beaten, or whatever else the dealers could think of, then Danny could deny that he knew anything, and Steve could confirm it. Because, all things considered, Danny really _didn't _know anything.

Sure, he knew what Steve had told him. He knew about the exchange, and about the drugs entering the island. Danny knew exactly enough to keep him safe and to get him home at the end of the day.

But Danny didn't know that Steve had planned on going deeper with the Asesinos all along, or that he had no intention of returning to work on Monday. He didn't know that Steve was not only under orders from the Governor, but also from the Secretary of Defense, to kill Raul Lorento and his entire band of Columbian thugs. He didn't know that the drugs were not the first concern for the operation; the ammunition was. Steve had to look at the big picture. And in choosing between letting a shit ton of cocaine onto his island and letting an entire nation go to war and then letting even more cocaine into the _country_… well… the big picture became perfectly clear.

He hated lying to Danny- especially after the last case- but the thought of seeing his partner's lifeless eyes bore accusingly into him after hours of brutal torture for information was unbearable. And Steve had no doubt the case would end with someone beating the shit out of him. Why? Well, because the second Danny was free and clear, his job was to kill Lorento. No questions asked, no reservation. He had orders from the top…_under no circumstances can Raul Lorento leave the island with that much ammunition, Lt. Commander. See to it that he doesn't leave at all._ One 'yes sir' and a hearty salute later and he was roped in. and his mission was to kill the man in charge. The problem was- at that point- the Asesinos would _most likely_ assume that something was up. They'd probably catch on pretty quick, and Steve wasn't cocky enough to think that he could fight off Zatori and his men.

And so, really, he was probably going to get beaten up worse than the first time around. He'd told Danny last night that it wasn't unusual for him to be compromised, but he didn't think the other man really grasped the severity of the slightly ambiguous statement. When Steve said often, he meant always. It was true; he was _always_ compromised the split second before all hell broke loose. It wasn't like a police investigation; these weren't reconnaissance missions. Steve's job was usually just to infiltrate the organization in question, say some stuff in a fancy language, and then kill whichever malcontent the US decided they didn't want around anymore. It was a fight to the death at that point because, after you put a bullet in a criminal's head in the middle of his own territory, his buds catch on pretty quick that you're not who you say you are.

And then it's just a gritty, bloody all against whoever is left. Sometimes, like in Moscow, you just blow something up and walk away. But more often than not you're fighting to stay alive.

Steve had been a part of his fair share of fights; he practically breathed combat for eleven years. But he had never been a part of an uglier battle than when he was working the other side. People- especially hardened criminals- tended to be a little upset when you pretend to be their friend and then kill one of their own. It led to a lot of perpetual bitterness.

All of which were reasons why Danny's involvement in the case changed the whole operation. Steve was a SEAL- a SEAL with a very special set of skills that made him paradoxically expendable- and so it was drilled in him to sacrifice anything and everything for the greater good. You die for your men, your country, your god, your family.

And he was ready and willing, too. But damn it if they expected him to sacrifice Danny. He would give the bureaucracy a sound _fuck you_ and a firm middle finger before he gave up his partner's life.

0600 hours came and went and still Steve stared at the papers before him, trying to work out the best timing possible. He had to get Danny off the dock and back to… wherever the hell he wanted to go, really- as long as it wasn't _there_… before he could kill Lorento. But he also had to not wait too long, or else Lorento would be long gone and then he'd have to find to ship and probably go all the way to Columbia and then try and stop an entire war single- handedly. Which was ridiculous.

Finally, at 0630, Steve stepped back from the spot where he had been staring for the better part of ninety minutes. He was confident at this point, so it was with an assured gait that he left his house, climbed into his truck, and made his way steadily north.

The day was a beautiful one, and Steve had to don a pair of sunglasses even in the early morning sunlight to protect his eyes. He smiled to himself, thinking about just how much Danny was going to bitch about the gorgeous weather.

He parked several blocks away from the docks- as he had instructed Danny to do as well- and made sure he looked the part before making his way to the harbor. He exchanged his typical handgun for a more efficient AK-47 and strapped the smaller weapon to his ankle because, really, what arms dealer only carried around a pistol?

He was, of course, not wearing a vest. That would have been like waving his arms and yelling "I'M A SEAL" at the top of his lungs. Steve was well used to the idea, but his thoughts once again strayed to Danny- Danny, who insisted they wear a vest no matter what and who would probably grumble and grouse at the idea of not having one.

A few minutes to seven, Steve spotted the Camero making its way toward him. Danny, luckily, had decided not to dress like a cop today- though the damage was done- and instead had donned jeans and a button down. He still looked helplessly like a Ha'ole, but that wasn't the point today.

Steve blocked out all other thoughts and allowed himself a laser focus- as Chin liked to call it. He scanned the area around them. It appeared free and clear at first glance, but Steve looked closer. The man across the street was too well built to be a cart vendor and Steve didn't know any homeless person who could afford to have hair plugs.

_Careless._

Sure, it would have fooled Anthony Sawyer, but Steve McGarrett was an entirely different story. It made him grimace that these people were even on the island at all; Oahu deserved a more decent group of criminals.

"Sawyer," Danny said, giving him a curt nod. Steve noted that he was spilling out lines just as instructed, but he seemed a little tense. Steve guessed Danny did not take an acting class in school. Not that Steve did…

"Williams," Steve replied in turn. The two of them fell into step and made their way toward the dock in question. It was designed for huge ships, so it was more industrial looking and larger than the docks that housed smaller, more personal boats. Steve couldn't help the lead that dropped into his stomach as they passed the dock marked '2'. It was the same place the Russians had docked; it was the same place Danny had been thrown into the back of a van and had his face bashed around.

Steve shut out the intrusive thought, and carried on- Danny at his heels. They turned left, right, left again, heading deeper and deeper into the harbor until they reached a dock so secluded that Steve was sure no one would bother them. It made it that much harder to escape, but hey, he would take what he could get. The dock jutted out into the water like a great cement arm, and all around him were huge metal crates that housed all the weapons the Asesinos were going to trade. The beauty of drugs; the real Sawyer had spilled the beans on _that_ particular piece of information with little persuasion. He'd also confessed his love for the teenage pop star Hannah Montana, but that was slightly less relevant to the operation.

The dock itself was, thankfully, still void of gangbangers at this point. Steve, taking advantage of the few minutes they would have, turned to his partner and spoke as rapidly as he could while still remaining understandable.

"Right, Danny. Don't talk unless they ask you a direct question. Don't appeared fazed by what you may see or hear. Make sure, if they do ask, that you say you're keeping HPD in the dark. When the exchange is made, leave immediately. Tell them you have to go make sure HPD patrol head the other way while the Asesinos move the drugs. If we're compromised, run like hell and don't look back."

"What exactly will you be doing after I leave?"

"Following the drugs." It was a lie, of course, but Danny didn't need to know that the likelihood of him leaving under his own direction was slim. It didn't bother him- orders were orders after all and he was nothing if not a good sailor- but Danny had to get back to his family and he didn't need to be distracted by whatever Steve would be up to.

"Listen, if you don't hear from me by ten tonight, call this number," Steve said, handing Danny a slip of paper. "Don't worry about me."

"Why wouldn't I hear from you?"

"You never know with these things."

"Did you think of everything that could possibly go wrong?"

"Yes. I even though of the ones that couldn't realistically happen and came up with equally unfeasible solutions."

"Uh…Why?"

"I want to be prepared."

"… Of course you do. Hey, Rambo?"

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah?"

"What languages do you speak?"

"Does it concern you that you don't know _everything _there is to know about me?"

"I just want to prepare myself for the next time to run off to play super-"

Steve cut him off with a hand over the smaller man's mouth. It was faint, but he could hear the telltale signs of heavy footsteps headed their way. He released Danny, who got the message and shut his mouth, and together they turned, guns raised, to meet the men walking towards them.

It took several minutes, but finally five men, all heavily armed as they were, rounded the bend and approached them. Steve noted, absently, that Zatori lead the pack. He was a well aged man that, under any other circumstances, the Commander actually would have liked; he was quick witted, sharp, well respected, and on par with Danny in terms of verbal sparring. It was really too bad Steve had to betray him.

"Tony, my friend, how are you?" Zatori asked jovially, his accent tinged with just a hint of his southern roots. Steve allowed himself a smile, but saw out of the corner of his eye that Danny did no such thing.

"I'm soon to be a much wealthier man, Clay. Can't complain."

"Too true. Is everything prepared?"

"Yeah, we're good to go." Right on cue, Danny gave a small, forceful cough. Steve was actually impressed; Danny was selling his part well so far. He'd have done well as an actor.

Steve pretended to be startled, and then collect himself. "Ah yes, Clay, this is my _friend_ Detective Williams. Williams, this is Mr. Clay Zatori."

Danny gave a curt nod, but Zatori took longer to appraise the man; he looked him up and down and seemed to weight Danny's worth to his operation. Luckily, the man did nothing but smirk slightly.

"Mr. Williams, Tony tells me you are being paid handsomely for your troubles. I do hope you find selling out your department to your fiscal likings."

Danny gave a noncommittal sort of shrug. "Money is money," he said, "and loyalty goes to the highest bidder. Today, that's you. I'll keep HPD off your ass until someone comes around and offers me something better."

Steve was actually surprised to find that Danny was very convincing. Maybe he should have been an actor.

Zatori laughed, though it did not reach his cold and calculating black eyes. "My kind of man. I assure you, Detective; I will always be your highest bidder." Zatori turned back to Steve at that point, and they got down to business.

"Should we expect Lorento soon, Tony?"

"Yeah," Steve replied, checking the watch on his wrist, "any second now." Sparing another glance at his partner, Steve noted that Danny looked tense at the idea of meeting the Columbians. Steve couldn't help but agree; Lorento was a lot more intense than Zatori. It was one of the reasons Steve wasn't going to let the man walk away today.

Right on cue, a large shadow loomed over the seven men on the dock. Steve looked up only to have his vision blocked by a massive steel wall.

The ship had arrived. Another set of footsteps could be heard behind, and they all whipped around as Raul Lorento and six of his goons- including Diaz on his right- appeared in much the same way as the Asesinos a few minutes earlier. Diaz sneered at Steve. Steve glared back.

"My friends… welcome," Lorento said, his Spanish accented voice coated in caramel. He, like Zatori, was a venerable but respectable man. However, unlike Zatori, he was a cold hearted bastard behind his calm, charismatic façade.

"Raul," Zatori said, nodding to the other man.

"Clay."

"Do you have the shipment?"

"But of course," :Lorento gave a noncommittal wave of his hand, and four of the six men behind him moved forward and up onto the ramp of the docked ship. They returned a few minutes later, each carting a large wooden crate on a wheeled cart.

There was silence in the group as the men descended the ramp once more. Steve remained calm; this was always the easy part- the calm before the storm. It gave him a chance to be introspective for just a second. It made it easier to dig for the drive to keep going and not want to sink into the earth. He found that, in cases like these, the more he though about _why_ he was about to kill someone- and quite possibly give up his own life- the easier it was to accept the probable outcome.

It also made staying calm that much easier, and it gave him the focus to keep Danny safe. _You die for your men, your country, your god, your family. If you die, you die for Danno today. _Resolved, he glanced back at Danny, who caught his eye and nodded imperceptibly. That was all the conformation Steve needed. He turned back just as the last crate stockpiled with cocaine found its way onto the dock.

Zatori looked pleased. Giving a nod, four of his men took charge on one crate each. That was the easy part. Zatori had his coke, and now Lorento needed his artillery. It was time for Steve to jump in.

"Mr. Lorento, I've got all of your weaponry in these crates," he indicated behind him, "and I'll make sure every one of them gets into safe hands."

Lorento looked Steve up and down. After having it happen so many times, the idea didn't faze him anymore; he just looked back calmly and politely, sure that his identity would hold.

"I hear you've brought the police into this little investigation, Anthony," he said dangerously.

"He's paid off, sir," Steve replied, giving his partner a noncommittal look and hoping it would suffice.

"Is he? I hope so, because if his men ruin this operation, I do not think his special _team_ would be very happy with the results." Steve saw Danny stiffen for a second, and then force himself to relax.

Dreading the next part of the conversation, Steve turned a little to look Danny full on. "Hear that, Williams?" He called nastily, his heart wrenching just a little. "The cops come down on us and your team is dead!"

Danny gave him a look that, to anyone else, was just a menacing sort of glare. Steve, however, saw the visible concern in his partner's eyes. He tried to relay courage, but he wasn't a wizard; he could only do so much.

"What the hell do you think you're paying me to do, Sawyer?" Danny called back, equally nasty. None of the men would have guessed that the pair of them actually spoke this way on a regular basis- albeit with less bite to the bark.

"See?" Steve turned back to Lorento now. "He's good, man. I don't think gutting his team would do much good; he'd just blow the whole operation and then you'd be leaving us with a bloody mess."

Lorento smirked, and Steve wanted _very_ badly to hit the man.

"That's too bad. I had hoped to take my time with that fiery little native they got over there."

Steve bit his tongue so har he though it may bleed. Danny's reaction was more visible, but that was understandable considering the circumstances.

The next few seconds proved exactly why Danny should never have been a part of this operation in the first place; he should never see just how far Steve went to get what he needed.

Hating himself completely for what he was about to do, Steve forced excitement into his voice.

"Did you catch those bastards?" He asked. He felt a piece of him die a little as he said it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Danny turn to give him a look, but he ignored it. This was something he hadn't told his partner about. He told himself it was to keep the Jersey native safe but, in retrospection, it was just a projection of his fear that the team would not forgive him for it.

Lorento shook his head, and Steve breathed a mental sigh of relief that he projected as disappointment.

"No," he said, "but I do have a guy watching the house. Those cops thought they could go inland and we wouldn't find them?" He scoffed at the idea. "As soon as we get out of here safe, I call him off the house. If he doesn't have word by noon, he's going to blow the place."

His heart skipped a beat. Sure, Grace was safe, but now Chin and Kono's lives were on the line, too. Suddenly the whole operation became much more serious. He had to think _very_ fast. He knew Danny had heard Lorento's words, and he knew the man would contact Chin and Kono the second he left, but it just wasn't enough assurance. What if the call didn't make it through? What if noon came and went and they weren't done yet? Somehow, he didn't think Lorento cared very much if the cousins lived or died in the long run.

He was saved from his morbid thoughts by, of all things, a cell phone. Or Danny, depending on how you looked at it. His partner's hand moved to his pocket, and Steve knew what the man was going to do. All at once, six guns were trailed on him. He paused.

"Let him answer, Lorento," Steve said. "The last thing you want to do is separate a cop from his phone. Seriously, it cost me two years back in '99."

Lorento seemed to give it a thought, but after a second he nodded and the six guns pointed at Danny lowered.

"Williams," he said into the device once he'd fished it out. Steve had to give the man credit; he was talking like there was actually someone on the other line and not just the deep, resonating silence of a useless communications device.

Danny gave a few clipped orders and some expletives into the phone before sliding it closed and addressing the group.

"That was one of the men I got inside. He says patrol spotted the ship coming in ahead of schedule. They're sending in a unit to investigate. I'm going to head them off now and send them in another direction, but I suggest you guys get this done quick." Danny gave Steve a lingering look, and the message was loud and clear: _I'm going to get them back safe._ Steve did nothing but narrow his eyes, but the idea was there, just as Danny's had been: _run._

Without another word, Danny turned on his heel and ran around the corner of the metal crates and out of sight. Steve felt relief flood him; now all he had to worry about was getting himself out of there.

That turned out to be surprisingly easy. After Danny left, there was a second of silence and then chaos broke loose. Zatori and his men, with one long and expressive look at the situation, hurried off with the crates of cocaine. Steve would deal with them later. Lorento motioned to his men to board the mighty vessel, take control of the crane, and move the gargantuan metal boxes onto the deck.

They all began to move, and suddenly the dock was empty but for Steve and his adversary.

The Commander smirked to himself. This was just too easy, really. Sometimes, he guessed, fate just seemed to cut him a break and hand him a kill on a silver platter with the words _congrats, big guy_ scrawled across it.

"Hey Mr. Lorento," Steve called to the man who was just around the corner of one of the crates.

"Hey Tony, come check this out," a voice called back. But it wasn't Lorento's at all. It was Clay Zatori's.

More than a little confused, because the Asesinos had just run off with their cocaine, Steve slowly made his way around the corner, fingering the trigger of his automatic weapon as he went.

Turning around the metal crate, Steve froze at the sight before him. There stood the two men, one he had grown to mildly appreciate and the other to loathe with every fiber of his being, and between them was a third faceless thug. In that thug's hands was a struggling child, and her name was Grace Williams.

Unfiltered animal rage consumed him at that point, and he began to shake in his effort to suppress it. That was it; game over. These men would die here no questions asked just for _having_ Gracie at all. Which, in and of itself was a conundrum because he had made absolutely sure the Edwards family in its entirety was placed in a safe house and had a protective detail at _all_ times. How could they have gotten their hands on Grace?

"What is this?" He managed to asked, even as he saw red before him.

Lorento looked up, smirking, and did not notice Steve's palpable rage.

"Zatori has a guy inside, Anthony, who says your Detective isn't as dirty as you think he is. His little girl was just _dying _to play and mom and dad were too caught up with themselves, so she asked the good Officer to do it. Took her right outside and drove off without so much as a peep from the parents. We figured we could see just how bent your guy _really_ is."

Steve was a split second from beating Lorento to a bloody pulp with his bare hands- consequences be damned- but was stopped when Grace ceased her thrashing for just a second and look up. Her eyes found him. She began struggling even more wildly and managed to kick her captor right in the crown jewels. He dropped her.

"Uncle Steve!" The distraught girl cried, running over to him. Without thinking, Steve bent to pick her up whilst dropping his automatic weapon and drawing his pistol from his ankle; he would need one hand to hold Grace. He swung her around so that he had her in his left arm, tucked away mostly behind him as his other hand pointed a gun at the men in front of him. The whole thing was so fast and unexpected that none of the men before him did very much but blink. After a second of hesitation, the realization dawned on each of them that this was not Anthony Sawyer. There it was; he had been made.

"Grace, close your eyes," he told her, and she complied without though, burying her head in his arm.

"Who are you?" Lorento asked dangerously, his own gun trained on Steve's forehead.

"Who am _I_?" Steve repeated, letting out a bark of laughter. "I'm nobody."

Without another thought, Steve fired his weapon at Lorento's head. The man crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from his face onto the concrete. Fortunately for Steve, the third man who had been holding Grace made to help his fallen boss and did not fire his weapon. Less than fortunately, Zatori was much sharper than that and managed to fire off a shot a split second after the Commander. Steve went cold with fear at the though of that bullet coming anywhere near Grace. He shielded her whole body with his own, even as he felt Zatori's bullet tear flesh away from his right side. Whipping around, still crouched around Grace, Steve fired again and watched dispassionately as Zatori clutched his chest and fell to the ground. Another bullet and the thug folded next to his boss.

Steve let a moment of silence fill the air before standing up. Grace clung to him, so he pulled her up, too, and rested her against his left side. Fire flared though his right, however, as he moved. Oh yeah- he'd been shot.

Looking down, he lifted his shirt slightly to assess the damage. All things considered, it was much better than last time. The bullet had not actually entered; it merely grazed his abdomen, gouging out a chunk of flesh but leaving him mostly intact. It may leave a nasty scar, but it certainly wouldn't kill him. The blood loss, however, may cause him to pass out, so he made it a point to try and find a way to bandage it at some point.

Steve's shoulder felt warm. Turning his neck, he saw Grace's body shake with silent sobs. His heart went out to this little girl who had to see too much at such a young age.

"Hey, Gracie," Steve said, holding the girl close, "those bad men are gone now."

She sniffled, but did not open here eyes. It was for the best; the sight was gruesome no matter who you were.

"Are- are you sure?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Yep. I'm going to keep you safe and make sure you get back to Danno, kay?"

"Kay. I trust you, Uncle Steve." Steve would deny everything vehemently, of course, but if anyone were be there at that second, they could swear that they saw the Commander's perpetually hardened eyes glisten ever so slightly.

A shout came from somewhere above him. Cursing himself for being so careless and holding the child in his arms tighter, he whipped around in time to notice the six men Lorento had sent on the ship had abandoned their tasks and decided to come gallivanting in and ruin his moment with Grace.

Knowing he only had a few seconds before they would be upon him, his gently set Grace down on the concrete and bent to her level. Her cheeks were stained with tears, but her eyes were open and relatively calm.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully Gracie. You have to run," he said, while gently turning the girl and pointing to the long corridor that offered a fairly straight shot to the car. "I need you to run until the big numbers on the ground get to one. You're going to see Uncle Steve's big truck, the one with the pretty blue paint. Get in my truck, Gracie, and lock the doors. Get in back and don't come out no matter what until I get there, do you understand?"

Grace looked fearful, but she nodded all the same.

"Good. Go now, Grace. Run!"

She gave him a very brief hug before turning and streaking down the long pathway.

Steve watched her go for as long as he could. She had just run out of sight when the first of Lorento's men descended upon him.

Turning around, he let himself think of nothing but survival, and prepared himself to fight.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for being so awesome. Already I've received fantastic reviews, which is heartening because I know I'm not the only one who is actually reading the story.

Anyway, I promise some solid action and probably ass kicking, too.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story

* * *

Danny allowed himself to slow down. He knew that, at this point, he was far enough away to cease the incessant pounding on his knee. It probably wasn't good that he had gone this far; already the joint was aching and he could feel the onset of a severe pain if he didn't find Advil and an ice pack in the near future.

His watch beeped at him, and he looked down to see the number flashing up at him read 9:00 on the dot. Funny, it didn't feel like he'd been at the docks for more than a few minutes.

The Camero came into sight over the crest of the gently sloping concrete hill and Danny sighed in relief. He wanted nothing more than to sit down. It was odd… he hadn't done much but spew out a few words and glare at a few people, and yet he was exceedingly tired. The adrenaline had all but left his system, leaving him feeling lethargic and slow.

No time for that now, though. He had to get a hold of Chin and Kono. He still had three hours until Lorento promised to blow up wherever the hell they were, but suddenly it didn't seem like enough time.

Danny pulled the cell phone out of his pocket- the one he had just used to fake a phone call from HPD. It was off, just as Steve instructed it to be. Danny was just about to turn it on when the tendrils of a wispy thought floated through his mind. Something Steve said the night before made him think… _they're going to have your phone tapped._ Could the Asesinos or the Colombians still be listening to him? If they were and he called to warn Chin and Kono… Danny shuddered at the thought.

Shaking his head, he moved his hand off the power button and returned device to his pocket. He would turn it back on when he sure it was safe.

But now the pressing issue was finding a secure line. Danny didn't know if he was still being followed, but he doubted it considering everyone would probably be preoccupied with moving their drugs and weapons.

As Danny slid into the seat of his car and gunned in to try and find a completely secure line to call Chin and Kono, his thoughts strayed back to the dock he had just left and his partner, who was still there.

Danny wondered what Steve could possibly be up to at this point. He wasn't stupid; he knew his partner was keeping things from him. It didn't particularly bother him that Steve was keeping him in the dark- it wasn't really his mission after all- but he couldn't help the horrible weight that settled in his stomach at the though of Steve alone on the docks with a slew of less- than- reputable men. It wasn't that Steve couldn't take car of himself, not by a long shot, but Danny knew that, whenever Steve was alone with criminals, people and property tended to have massive damage inflicted on them.

Danny made a hairpin turn and screeched up the street, headed toward the only place he knew with a completely secure way of contacting his team: HQ. Checking his rearview mirror, he was pleased to see that no conspicuously inconspicuous black sedan mad the same wild turn as he did.

He was probably just being paranoid. _Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't watching you_. Cursing himself for being entirely unhelpful, he turned into the parking lot of Five-0 headquarters and stepped out of the car.

His knee protested loudly and almost collapsed underneath him. "Shit," he breathed, shaking out the limb. He would need to find painkillers and ice soon, or else have to fish the cane back out from his closet.

Shaking his head and limping up the steps of the building, he pulled open the great glass door and hobbled inside, letting the clear contraption swing closed behind him. It took him no time at all to secure a landline, and even less time to hastily punch the numbers of Chin's cell into the phone.

And then he was forced to wait. He tapped his good leg on the ground impatiently as the line rang once, twice, three times before Chin's calm voice materialized and asked him politely to leave a message.

Cursing again, Danny slammed the phone down and picked it once again immediately, this time dialing Kono.

The phone once more gave three rings, but this time he was rewarded with the sound of Kono's curt and to- the- point _"Danny."_

"Kono!" Danny sagged in relief, letting himself sink into the office chair behind him.

"_Danny, now really isn't-"_

"Kono!" He interrupted before she could go any further, "you and Chin have to get out of the house. They're going to blow it to shit, Kono. You have to get out!"

There was silence from the other line. A second later he heard an odd sound; Kono was letting out a sort of relieved, breathless laugh.

"_I know," _she said, _"we… ah… we found him."_

"You… found him?"

"_Yeah. When Chin told me we had to lay low for the weekend, we went inland to see our aunt. This morning, we went four wheeling with a couple cousins and, well, we happened across a thug -with a missile launcher of all things- on the ridge overlooking the house. Needless to say, he's a little worse for wear. I mean, how the hell did this guy get a _missile launcher_?"_

Danny laughed in much the same way as Kono had a moment ago. They were safe; Chin and Kono were alright. And, beyond that, they had _found _the man who was all set to blow the house to smithereens. Leave it to cousins to take matters into their own hands.

"A missile launcher? That would probably be Anthony Sawyer's doing."

"_What?"_

"It's a long story. Did you call HPD?"

"_Yeah, but they aren't here yet. Apparently a whole bunch of the officers were commandeered for some kind of protection detail."_

"Commandeered, huh? Sounds like something Steve would do. It was probably the governor- she's jumping the gun on the investigation. Where are you guys?"

Kono gave him an address of house several miles inland, near Wahiawa. Promising to be there soon, Danny hung up and then got up from the chair to find an ice pack. After digging through his office for a bag of ice, and then rifling through Steve's drawers to find the bottle of Advil he had stashed away in the back corner of the left drawer for the migraines he thought he were secret, Danny hobbled back out of the office and to the waiting car.

Before he turned on the car, he sat there for a moment and mentally compartmentalized so that he could have a clear head.

_Okay… Steve? Check. Chin and Kono? Check. Gracie… _

His thoughts strayed to his daughter and he wished, not for the first time, that Steve had told him where she was. Beyond telling him that the Edwards were moved to a safe location, Steve offered nothing in terms of a specific place. Danny would have been happy with a cryptic message and a treasure map.

But all he got was a phone number. _Call this number if you don't hear from me by ten o'clock_. Cursing Steve for being entirely unhelpful, he resigned himself to having Gracie's safety in the Commander's hands.

Satisfied that he at least had some semblance of control over the situation, he turn on the car and peeled out of the parking lot, heading inland toward the two teammates he actually knew were safe.

* * *

All things considered, Steve was doing okay.

Sure, he was outnumbered six to one, but hey, he'd had worse odds. And sure, they had six times the guns and six times the ammunition as he, but still he thought he was doing alright. All things considered, of course.

At least he hadn't been shot again.

After Grace had sprinted away from him, he turn back to find the first of Lorento's six men had descended upon him. It was funny; animal rage made people want to do things with an unnecessary amount of extra work. The goon could have just as easily shot him, but he chose instead to give a strangled war cry and attack Steve with his bare, but rather meaty, fists. Oh well, his loss.

Parrying the thug's blows, Steve planted a firm elbow to his jaw and was satisfied to see the man clutch his face and stagger back slightly, leaving a few feet of space between himself and the Commander. It was plenty of room; Steve whipped his gun around and aimed at the large man. He watched, unconcerned, as the man slumped to the ground, blood oozing from a dime shaped hole between his eyes.

"Aaargh!" Steve wanted to laugh; Lorento's men seemed hell bent on ripping apart by hand, because the second one did much the same as the first and came at him with no gun in hand. It was just as easy to kill _him_, too. In fact, he didn't even break a sweat. Steve rammed the butt of his gun in the back of the man's head as he hurtled forward with the obvious intent to strangle his adversary. Letting him pitch forward past him, Steve turned around and dropped down to aim a sweeping kick at the enemy's thick legs. That was always the trick; big men were top heavy. The man dropped to the ground.

Righting himself, he pointed his weapon and let the bullet fly. It rammed into the man's neck. He hated to see him choking on his own blood as he slowly asphyxiated, so Steve aimed between the eyes and put the man out of his misery.

After that, the remaining thugs seemed to learn rather quickly that charging like a wild bull was not really a viable option.

That's when the bullets really started flying. Steve dove out of the way of the onslaught of steel, and rolled behind a metal crate so that each of the four remaining men could not see him, even as they popped up from behind various crates and hurtled down the ship's ramp toward him.

Steve peeked out around the corner. Goon number one was stationed underneath the metal ramp leading up to the ship, number two was crouched behind a wooden crate that could easily be shot though, and number three was creeping toward him from the left. The fourth man was nowhere to be seen.

Steve whipped around the corner. Immediately bullets whizzed passed him and imbedded themselves into the metal and cement structures behind him. Not caring to aim particularly carefully, he unloaded a clip in the direction of the first man. He was satisfied to hear a cry and see the man fall back into the water between the dock and ship.

He was forced to duck down again as another volley of bullets made their way toward him. Letting the empty clip fall and immediately replacing it with another, he counted. Knowing each of the two men he knew of were using nine mils similar to his own, he waited until the last possible second when-_ aha!_ The man who had been steadily inching toward him was out of bullets. Not giving him a chance to reload, Steve turned and fired twice, hoping that the bullet trick actually worked. The first ripped through the assailant's calf, causing him to stumble and pitch toward the cement. The second bullet, previously heading toward his thigh, caught the man in the heart as he crumpled down.

Nodding in satisfaction- for that trick failed more than it was successful- Steve crouched down. Now on eye level with the man behind the crate, he wasted no time in letting loose his own cascade of bullets. They pierced the wood crate and tore it to pieces.

Steve's clip clicked empty. He wasn't worried about reloading at once, though, because the blood seeping out from underneath the destroyed wooden crate told him that he probably wasn't going to need any more bullets anyway.

Now all he had to do was find the fourth guy. Steve stood, and let the second emptied clip fall from his gun and clatter to the cement. Digging around, he found a third and was just about to clip it in when a very quiet noise- like someone snoring in a distant room- assaulted his ears.

He turned just in time to drop both the gun and the clip and raise his hands to parry the blow of the previously hidden fourth man.

Steve's weapon clattered away uselessly, but he didn't have time to think about it. The fourth of Lorento's men was surprised that Steve turned before he could jump him, but it seemed as though he was smarter than his predecessors.

Steve and the man stood a few feet apart, circling each other slowly. Neither one had a visible weapon, so Steve concluded it would be a hand to hand fight to the death.

"You're going to die, friend," the Colombian whispered menacingly, the words made more threatening in his native Spanish tongue.

Steve said nothing. No words were necessary; _Steve_ knew this man had to die, and no amount of empty bravado would change that.

The man lunged. Steve dodged the blow and returned with one of his own, which the man parried. They continued to go back and forth with very little headway. Finally, Steve managed to sidestep a left hook and throw a quick punch to the man's jugular. He stumbled back a step, but quickly righted himself. He made what looked like a blind jab as Steve, and the Commander moved to the right. He didn't expect the Colombian's other hand to whip up. It caught him in the gut, and he doubled slightly as the breath was forced out of him.

He saw the man's meaty fists begin to descend upon him. Thinking fast, Steve dropped to the ground and let the punch swing over his head. He swept out a foot and caught the man's legs so that they ended up tumbling into a heap of limbs.

Mentally cursing, Steve attempted to roll away. The Colombian's foot kicked out and caught Steve in the head. He reeled back, dazed, as his vision went black for just a second and he felt his right temple split open and blood ooze down the side of his face.

Steve rolled to his feet, but almost fell again as the world spun around him. Shaking it off, he twisted around just in time to brace himself for the tackle; the Colombian grabbed him around the waist and they hurled toward the ground. Steve thanked whatever gods he could that he played football at the academy, because nothing was more helpful in learning how to successfully fall down; he bent his knees and let his stronger legs absorb the impact of the fall. Unfortunately, two hundred and fifty pound Colombian men falling on top of you was _not_ a part the game he played in college, and so he could do very little for the huge weight that collapsed on top of him as they slid into the cement.

The Colombian's elbows collapsed onto his chest as his full weight pressed into Steve. He winced as he felt a rib or two crack beneath the pressure.

Righteous anger consumed him, and he decided in that moment that fight ended _right then_. He kicked out and the Columbian stumbled back. Deciding to turn the tables, Steve sprang up and tackled the man much in the same way as he had been a second before. The only difference was that Steve, after years of football, knew very well how to tackle someone and keep them down. Twisting so that the Colombian's neck and head would be forced to absorb the majority of the impact of the fall, he forced the brute down and into the ground.

There was a sickening crunch, and the man lay still; Steve had definitely broken his neck. It was gruesome, but effective nonetheless.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Steve pushed himself off the chest of the dead man and stood up. His entire right side screamed in protest, and he bit back a grunt of pain. Beyond the quasi gunshot wound in his right side, it now seemed as though he had some broken ribs, too. Still, his mission was complete; Lorento and his men were dead and the artillery would not make it into Colombian hands.

His thoughts strayed back to Grace, and a blind panic gripped him. She had been alone for at least half an hour, and there was a chance the Asesinos would come looking for revenge now that their leader was dead. Killing Zatori hadn't been a part of the plan, but the thought of anything happing to Grace was justifiable cause end the man without a second thought.

No matter now; what was done was done. The problem was word would travel fast and the Asesinos would seek revenge. They would target him, and quite possibly Danny, too.

Steve was wrapped up in a fierce determination at that thought, and so, with one last look at the wreckage before him, he turned, grabbing a large gun off one of the dead around him and a handgun off another, and ran as fast as he could back up the dock to his car and Grace, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

* * *

It took less than half an hour for Danny to reach Chin and Kono, and most of that was due to him breaking every traffic law known to man and the state of Hawaii in the process.

He screeched to a halt behind the police cruiser car, and hopped out of the car to hobble over to the porch. Chin and Kono started toward him when they spotted the Camero entering the drive, and the three Five-0's met somewhere between the deck of the house and the gravel road where Danny parked.

"Danny," Kono breathed, enveloping him in a hug. He wanted to sag into her, but thought that tiny Kono probably didn't want to support an exhausted Danny.

She pulled back and Danny shook Chin's hand. That was all the offered preamble, however, and the three of them immediately got down to business.

"What happened?" Kono asked him, dark eyes swimming with worry. "Where's Steve?"

Danny let out a monumental sigh and felt the day weigh on his shoulders. It was unbelievable to him that the clock hadn't even struck noon yet.

"It's a long story," he offered wearily, making his way to the steps up to the porch and sitting down. Chin and Kono followed suit. Danny spent the next ten minutes detailing the events of the night before and the operation from that morning. By the end, Kono's eyes were wide with worry, and Chin's normally jovial face was creased in concern.

"So," began Kono slowly, as though she was just wrapping her head around the idea in question, "you and Steve spent the morning supervising a gang operation while pretending to be criminals and adding to the drug quota of the island. And you left because the Colombian threatened to blow us up. And now you don't know where Steve is. Or the gangbangers. And you can't turn on your cell phone."

"Uh," Danny thought it over, "yes. Except I can assume Steve is still at the docks. And I hope his criminal pals are, too, because tracking that cocaine is going to be a bitch."

"Wow. What a morning."

"No kidding."

Chin looked thoughtful. "What's up?" Danny asked, hoping the man could offer some kind of Chin- ish wisdom.

"Well," he began slowly, still lost in thought, "I think I could remove any possible trace on your cell phone without turning it on…"

Danny perked up; having a usable cell phone would certainly make things easier. Though, Danny realized with a thought, not that much easier. Steve didn't have a cell phone on him- he claimed that the best way to be Tony Sawyer was to _not_ be Commander McGarrett- and Danny wasn't supposed to call the number his partner gave him until ten that evening. Still, a means of communication that was completely safe from nasty people would be a good thing.

"Okay," Danny agreed, nodding. Chin flexed his fingers, and asked Kono for her laptop. Plugging the still- off phone into the computer, Chin typed several commands, moved some things around, and clicked several buttons. The entire process went over Danny's head.

"Done!" He said thirty seconds later, handing Danny his phone. "There is absolutely _no_ way there could be a trace on that phone now."

"What did you do?" Danny asked, powering on the device.

"Do you really want to know?" Chin replied, raising a brow.

"Uh… no. No I don't."

A small noise from the phone told Danny it was on. He looked down, and started; he had _seventeen_ missed calls. Confused, he scrolled through the numbers. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed eleven of the calls were from the number Steve had given him earlier that morning, and the other six were from the precinct at HPD.

"What's wrong, Danny?" Kono asked, noticing his visible distress.

"I don't know…" he replied, "but it's not good whatever it is."

Danny decided then and there to defy Steve's order to wait; he called back the number Steve had given him and listened as it rang three times. Finally, someone picked up.

"_Hello?" _Danny was surprised to find that the voice on the other end belonged to his ex wife. He was also surprised to find that the voice was uncharacteristically thick, as though the woman had been crying.

"Rachel?"

"_Oh Danny!" _She cried, and the line was filled with the sound of her wild sobs.

"Rachel!" He cried, concerned; the woman was _not_ usually this emotional. "What happened?"

"_It's- It's Grace,"_ she said, sniffling. Cold fear paralyzed him, gluing him to the porch steps.

"Where is she? What's going on Rachel?"

"_They t-took her! The policeman- he put her in a car and they j-just drove off! Oh my god, Danny, you have to find her!" _The rest of whatever she was going to say was drowned out by further sounds of her breaking down.

Danny froze. Commotion continued around him, but it was nothing more than white noise. Nothing more than nothing. All he could think was _Grace was gone_. Rachel's words played over and over in his head… _they took her. The police._ The men he had come to know and trust had put his Gracie in the back of a car and driven away. _Oh god._

"Danny?" Kono asked, looking at him in concern.

He didn't respond. He felt as though, if he moved, the situation would become entirely too real. Frozen, he was safe.

Chin shook him. That did it; the weight of all he had just heard came crashing down. He stood up so fast that his vision went black for a second. Kono and Chin stood with him and struggled to keep up as he nearly ran back to the car.

"What happened?" Chin asked.

"They took her."

"What? Slow down Danny!"

They took her, Chin," he said, whipping around to give the man a look, "they fucking _took_ my little girl."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I've come to realize that, if I don't wrap this up, it's going to end up being thirty thousand words long. This is fine… I just want to start a new project is all. So welcome to my almost conclusion chapter. One more after this, if I can actually bite the bullet and stop adding complications to the plot. It seems I have to address things I brought up in earlier chapters and then forgot about.

Like Steve saying he didn't plan to come back on Monday. I mean, where the hell did that come from? And, more importantly, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?

THANKS FOR THE AWESOME REVIEWS!

Also, a shout out to **Qweb, **who kindly pointed out that, in the first story, I referred to Steve's team as Soldiers and not Sailors. Growing up with more than a few relatives and a quasi- sibling in the army, I can safely say that I'm more than a little embarrassed for not noticing that, while my mind was thinking Sailor, my fingers were writing Soldier. It just goes to show that I should probably proofread once in a while.

Thanks **Qweb**, and enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

Chin and Kono froze for a second, and then exploded into action. They were amazing; Danny noted they did not ask one question. They simply _acted_. Kono and Chin followed Danny to his car. Together, they gunned it out of the drive and headed back toward HQ.

"It was a cop," Danny said to his teammates, "it was one of our own."

"Damn," Chin breathed, anger flashing in his eyes. They drove faster. Chin pulled out his laptop and began typing away furiously. Several minutes later he spoke up with several new pieces of information that his computer had produced.

"There's an APB out on Grace and every unit in HPD is looking for that car," he said, still staring at the computer screen. "And Danny… The cop who did it… it was Sergeant Lee."

Danny cursed and hit the steering wheel in rage. Sergeant Lee had been Danny's superior and mentor when he still worked for HPD; the man had given Danny a chance where so many others dismissed him as nothing more than a Ha'ole.

"I'm so sorry, Brah," Kono said, giving Danny a look from the back seat.

"It's…" Danny trailed off as in idea struck him. He slammed on the breaks, amidst a cacophony of blaring horns, and screeched the car around to head back the way they were going.

"What-?" Chin asked brokenly, using his hands to push against the dash and steady himself as Danny weaved in an out of traffic.

"Why would they take Grace?" Danny asked, eyes not leaving they road.

"Leverage," Kono replied as she clung to whatever she could find to keep from sliding around.

"After I had already left the docks?"

Chin opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it thoughtfully. Kono let out a small gasp as her train of though began to imitate Danny's.

"Sergeant Lee didn't know I had already left the docks, but the Colombians and the Asesinos did. So why take Grace?"

Chin thought for a moment, and then his eyes lit up in horrified realization. "Because Lee knows you're not dirty."

"Exactly." Danny drove faster.

"So where are we going?" Kono asked in confusion.

"Back to the docks?"

"Isn't that exactly what they would want you to do?"

"Yes."

Chin and Kono did not argue; it seemed as though they understood the raw desperation that gnawed at Danny's innards. Danny appreciated his teammates all the more for that. So they would go back, even if it meant walking into an ambush, because Grace was worth dying for any day of the week.

* * *

The terrible ache in Steve's ribs caused him to slow down ever so slightly. He put a hand to his side, trying as best he could to contain the blood from the GSW and to keep his ribs from moving, and pushed on. He had less than a hundred yards now until he would be able to spot the car, so he picked up as much speed as he could and ran up the cement pathway between two huge ships.

Finally cresting the hill, he peeked around the monstrous vessel on his right and was met with a welcome sight indeed; the Camero was parked next to his truck. Steve, even from as far away as he was, could see the visible relief on Danny's face as he pulled Grace from the truck and hugged her tight. Chin stood a few feet back, watching much in the same way as father and daughter had a very heartfelt reunion. Danny picked her up- seemingly unwilling to let her go- and both began to converse. Well, Grace was talking rapidly as her father listened with rapt attention.

Steve let the relief wash over him. They were safe. He wanted to whoop for joy and at the same time sag into the earth. It was an odd feeling; never before had he been so invested in a mission and never before had he felt such emotion when it was over.

Except it wasn't over.

Steve had just stepped out from behind the ship to walk over and greet his teammates when the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the air. Sure it was aimed at him, he ducked back behind the grey giant and looked at the random assortment of firepower he'd grabbed before running up here. He'd picked up a pistol and a rifle. A rifle with a scope on it.

Deciding the sniper rifle was less than ideal in a situation like this, he raised the pistol and whipped back around the ship. His heart sank at what he saw.

The gun hadn't been aimed at him. It had been aimed at Danny. Luckily, the bullet had done nothing more than strike the Camero, but the situation had since then devolved into a horrifying standoff. In the few seconds Steve was out of sight, four men had appeared, three of them Asesinos and one a police officer. Steve growled in anger at that. One of the Asesinos had forced Chin's gun from his hand and now held the native man with a knife to his throat. Chin still looked surprisingly calm. The second goon had an arm around Kono's neck, holding her tight as she struggled against him. The cop stood with a gun pointed at Danny, who still had Grace in his arms.

Steve was overcome with an odd sense of pride when he saw Grace look up from her father's shoulder, blow the men in question a raspberry, and then suck her head back down. _That's my girl_.

The fourth man- another Asesino- stood off to the side a little bit. He was addressing the group, and fingering the gun tucked into his belt. Steve knew this man; he was Zatori's second in command. _Great_, he thought. _Just fucking great. _An immeasurable guilt paralyzed him for a second, before anger took over and he exploded into quiet action.

Steve knew full well that he could not approach the situation on foot without getting someone killed. Glancing down at his arsenal, he smiled despite the situation.

_Here's to you, Danny_, he thought, giving his partner a mental salute. _Thanks for thinking my specialty was being a sniper. _With one last smirk, he turned and ran up the ramp of the ship nearest to him.

Reaching the deck, he silently made his way to the ledge so that, if he looked over, he could see the whole situation play out about a football field's length away from him. Steve couldn't help but smile at his incredible luck, and even at the injuries he'd received, because- if he had been thinking and acting at one hundred percent- he would _never_ have picked up a sniper rifle off the Colombian he'd killed. He would have deemed it useless.

Still, he was fully capable of handling a rifle, so it was with expert hands that he set up the gun and crouch down peer into the scope. _Easy_, he though to himself, noting how close he way. A little over a hundred yards. Piece of cake.

The crosshairs picked up the situation below him which, thankfully, had changed very little since Steve had climbed up to the ship. Danny, Chin, Kono, and Grace still had weapons pointed at them, and the Asesino in charge was still talking.

Steve breathed very deeply, and focused. He paused for a second to collect himself, and then began to fire.

* * *

Danny was just glad to have Grace back in his arms. Sure, they had guns pointed at them, but at least he got to hold his daughter tightly again. Of course, when Sergeant Lee's gun began to stray toward his Gracie, it took everything Danny had not to beat the man to a bloody pulp with his bare fists.

When the Camero had pulled up, Danny was surprised to find that Steve's truck had not moved an inch since he'd left. It was bad news; it meant that something was prolonging the exchange. A new variable. Like Grace.

The three of them had exited the car, guns drawn, and moved slowly outward to assess the situation.

"Danno?" Danny had whipped around, and reholstered his gun just in time to run two steps to Steve's truck and swing his daughter into the air. He held her tight as the telltale prickle behind his eyes began to announce its presence. He was confused as to why Grace was in the truck, but at the moment nothing had mattered more than holding his daughter to his chest like a lifeline.

Grace had begun to speak very quickly, and Danny had only caught parts of what she was saying. Something about _big bad men_ and then the words Uncle Steve popped up more than once, accompanied by _killed_, _save, _and _ run_. Danny listened as best be could, and seemed to get the gist of what was being said. In essence, Steve had done…_ something_... to save his daughter's life.

Danny still had absolutely no idea where his partner could be. He was about to address that issue when he heard a gunshot.

And then all hell broke loose.

It had taken almost no time for the ambush to end in a precarious stalemate. Five-0 had guns pointed at them, but no one had been shot yet, which was nice.

Grace looked up, made a noise and stuck her tongue out at Sergeant Lee, and ducked her head. Danny wanted to laugh, but instead opted to give Lee a nasty glare. Lee hadn't looked him in the eyes.

And then the most well dressed goon started talking, claiming that Detective Williams and Anthony Sawyer had killed Clay Zatori and they would both have to pay. It was really just a bunch of bravado bullshit, but it made Danny a little uneasy in easy case. He blamed the guns.

So there they were, standing on the cement at the base of a huge ship, frozen as the man in front of them continued he monologue about how everybody was going to die and they would suffer and all that shit.

"Anthony Sawyer was working with you the whole time, Detective. He killed Zatori, and all of our Colombian friends. Tell me where I can find him, and I will spare your daughter's life."

A terrible weight sunk into him. He would die before they touched Grace… But he didn't know where Steve was, and they weren't going to accept that.

He was all set to sputter out a bullshit response when a great _bang_ ripped through the air. Instinctively, Danny turned Grace away from the sound and shielded her with his body. As it turned out, that was entirely unnecessary; the bullet wasn't aimed at him at all. Danny watched, covering Grace's eyes with one hand, as the mouthy Asesinos gaped for a second and then dropped to the ground with a ragged hole in his head.

A second later, another gunshot sounded and the man who had been holding Kono fell away from her. She sagged forward, eyes wide at the thought of the bullet being so close to her head. It was a damn fine shot.

By now, the remaining Asesino and Sergeant Lee were looking around wildly, their weapons no longer pointed at the teammates.

_Bang!_ The third gangbanger went down. Lee began firing wildly in the direction of the ship, but it did him no good. A fourth gunshot rang out against the morning air and he slumped to the ground, the front of his face mangled by the huge caliber bullet.

There was silence after than. Danny stood taller, clutching Grace to him, and looked around. Chin, one arm around Kono, did much the same. Danny figured his deceased Sergeant had it right and looked toward the deck of the ship, a football field away from him. He could just make out an odd glint on the port side of the vessel.

A memory floated to the surface of his mind- something the late Officer Pinkleman had once said to him while they sat in a surveillance van on top of a ridgeline overlooking the same harbor where he now stood… _I once saw him down a man from two football fields away. _ This distance was a little over half that, so surely the SEAL would think it to be exceedingly simple.

Danny smirked.

"What?" Chin asked, looking at him and then to the deck of the ship. They couldn't see any sign of the commander, but Danny still _knew_.

"I've been told McGarrett has some talent with a sniper rifle," Danny replied. Kono's eyes widened in realization. Chin smirked.

"Danno?"

Danny looked down, momentarily distracted, at his daughter's wide eyes.

"Yeah monkey?"

"Uncle Steve got hurt by those big bad men, remember?" Danny didn't remember hearing that, but figured it had been said during Grace's tirade earlier.

"Right, Kiddo. Why don't you stay here with Uncle Chin and Aunt Kono and I'll go see if I can find him, okay?"

She nodded, satisfied. Kono stepped forward and took her hand. They sat down on the concrete as Kono showed her a game you could play with your hands. As he walked away, he heard his daughter's peals of laughter amidst Kono's giggling and Chin's deeper chuckle.

He smiled, knowing Grace was going to be okay, and moved forward to try and find his partner.

* * *

Steve didn't expect for there to be a fourth gangbanger milling about. Of course, given his track record throughout the day- his bleeding head and mangled right side would attest to it- he probably should have. Maybe he figured some cosmic being would cut him a break. Maybe he grew cocky. Maybe the wound in his head was clouding his judgment.

It hardly mattered now. What did matter was the knife that rested, ever so gently, against his neck. Luckily, he'd managed to let the last bullet loose and ensure his teammates were safe before the bastard behind him managed to pull a blade.

"Get up," the goon said forcefully, digging the knife into Steve's neck just a little. He hadn't broken skin yet, but it was clear he had no qualms about it.

Steve rose slowly, letting the gun stay where it was.

"Move," The man said as he spun Steve around and forced him from the front of the ship toward the side- where he could not be seen by eyes on the dock. The plan became clear; this man would kill him and throw him into the water so that the evidence washed away as the body sunk.

It was a good thing the Asesino was stupid, though, because it gave Steve a small window of opportunity. The first rule of combat: bring a goddamn gun. The man had a knife, which basically ensured close quarter fighting, something Steve- despite what Danny might say- was quite good at.

SEAL and gangbanger stood, face to face, on the edge of the ship, not moving. Steve gave a quiet but deep breath, and waited. When your adversary had a weapon, the biggest mistake to make was to strike first. His residing officer had taught him that, and it had saved his life more than once.

Two breaths later, the man grew impatient.

"I'm going to kill you," he said, baring his teeth.

"You know," Steve replied calmly, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "you're the second person to tell me that today. I can't help but notice I'm still here."

"Not for long."

Steve sighed. "See, you think that, but so did the last guy and he's a little worse for wear- what with the three severed vertebrae in his spine and all."

The man gave a growl, and finally lunged.

Steve waited until the last possible second and then raised his hand, forcing the knife in his enemy's fist upward. Using his free hand, he placed a good number of well aimed punches to the man's ribcage. He stumbled back a pace, but regained his footing.

They continued to go back and forth for several blows. Steve ducked the whooshing blade and struck out with his open hand to strike the man's head. Unfortunately, he traded the opportunity to punch for the security his arm provided to his torso. Just as he went to punch the man across from him, the blade found its way to the now exposed spot underneath his ribcage.

He hissed as the knife plunged into him, and immediately he saw spots dance in his vision. The bastard in front of him had chosen to stab the worst place possible: the _one_ spot everybody had been mutilating all day. His whole right side was going to be a complete mess. Steve felt an odd but familiar sort of tingling near the wound, but ignored it for the time being; he has more pressing issues.

Steve staggered back a few feet. It was strategic; though the wound was relatively shallow and rather benign, he man had cut deep enough to leave the knife sitting gruesomely in the Commander's side. Taking a step to balance, Steve let the man think he was falling forward to his death.

At the point where he would have otherwise fallen forward into the water, Steve twisted, pulled the knife from his gut with a sickening sound, and plunged it into the man's heart.

The Asesino's eyes widened for a second, and then grayed with death as he fell past Steve and splashed into the water twenty feet below. Steve leaned back and stepped onto more secure ground, but still leaned over to make sure the man did not resurface. He put a hand securely to his right side to keep in the blood from the wounds there. None was a life threatening injury on its own, he assumed hopefully, but the combined physical maladies and the blood loss could be if he didn't contain it. Wearing only a black tee, he had nothing to strip for a bandage, so he opted just to hold his hand there until he could get home and patch it up. The odd sensation near the knife wound continued. He continued to peer into the dark depths of the peer long after he was almost sure the man had hit the ocean floor.

"I think he's dead, you know," a voice sounded from a couple of steps behind him.

"That's what we thought with the last guy, and look how that turned out," Steve replied without turning. He heard Danny's footsteps stop a few feet to the right. He also peered into the water.

"You're right," he said, turning to look at Steve, "you can't be too careful." Steve sensed the double meaning in the words.

* * *

Danny's knee loudly protested the climb up the ramp to the deck of the ship, but it was worth it in the end because he got to see his partner kick some gangbanger drug lord ass.

He hopped up onto the deck to the telltale sounds of fighting. Pulling his gun, he whipped around just in time to see Steve, who looked like he might fall over the side of the ship, sink a bloody knife into his adversary and use it to twist them around so that the criminal fell into the water and Steve staggered back onto the deck.

Danny let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His partner was standing precariously near the edge of the great vessel. He was doing something odd with his right hand, and did not appear inclined to turn around anytime soon, so Danny made his entrance.

"I think he's dead, you know," he called to the taller man. Steve did not turn around.

"That's what we thought with the last guy, and look how that turned out," he said, still staring at the water. Danny moved to stand just to the right of him to peer, just as his partner was, into the azure waters.

"You're right," he offered, "you can't be too careful." Danny gave Steve a look that said more than his words could.

Steve continued to look into the sea for a moment, and then it seemed as though the violent waters released him and he looked up. Danny's eyes widened at the blood on the side of Steve's face; he looked gruesome.

"You look fantastic," he said, still peering at the bloody gash that followed his partner's hairline and was lost somewhere around his temple.

Steve let out a tired chuckle. "I bet I feel a hell of a lot better."

"Are _all_ of your… missions… this bloody?"

"I blame you. I had a great track record before you came along.

"I don't know… you blew your leg to shit…" Danny said, smirking. Steve whipped around and scrutinized him.

"Was it Speers or Franco?"

"You actually. Well, Speers started the conversation, but you told me the story."

"I don't recall ever being so careless."

"I drugged you."

Steve let out a mildly annoyed humph at that, but let it go. Danny smiled internally at the thought that Steve trusted him enough to not worry about the things he knew, especially from Steve's days as a SEAL. They stood for just a second longer, before Danny though it was probably time to get off that damn ship and go… anywhere. As long as it wasn't there.

"We should go."

Steve nodded, and made to turn. It was almost lost, but Danny caught the slightest wince from his partner as he twisted around. In a normal person, it could mean anything, but for Steve it meant something was seriously wrong. This was a man who had his leg blow apart and then trekked through the jungle with nothing more than the intoxicating release of Jose Cuervo to ease the pain. A wince was a big deal.

"How long did you think you could keep up your little 'I'm fine' façade?" Danny asked, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder to stop him. To his credit, Steve seemed entirely unsurprised that Danny knew he was hiding an injury.

"Façade is a big word, Jersey boy."

"Normally your intelligent banter is stress relieving, but now you're just using it to change the subject."

"Stress relieving? Really?"

"You give as good as you get McGarrett. Now _stop changing the subject_! Where else are you hurt?"

"For the record," Steve said, "I'm fine. And you can bitch as loudly as you want, but I'm not going to he hospital. They're just going to tell me what I already know. With that, Steve moved his right hand from his side and lifted the black shirt that had previously been hiding the blood stains.

Danny's breath hitched a little; his partner's right side was a mass of angry bruising and blood. There was a deep gouge that ran from the bottom of his ribcage diagonally to his hip bone, and another, thinner line just below the first that was actually the source of most of the blood. The red and purple bruising suggested broken bones. Danny actually wasn't sure how Steve was still standing.

"Fine my ass, McGarrett. This is bad. How much blood have you lost?"

"Not enough to pass out."

Danny peered at the deep gouge, and noted the dried blood. "How long have you had this one?"

"Um… What time is it?"

"A little after noon."

"For three hours."

"You've been bleeding since I _left_? Jesus McGarrett."

"It's fine."

"You need stitches."

"Then I'll do it myself. I'm not going to the hospital." Steve began taking slightly shuffling steps toward the ramp. Danny still had to hurry to keep up.

"You are a caveman. You can't just stitch up your own wound!"

"I've done it before."

"This isn't the jungle, McGarrett!"

Steve moved down the ramp with the efficiency of having done it hundreds of times before. "And I hate hospitals."

"Why?"

Steve paused to give him a look, and then turned back and stepped off the ramp onto the concrete.

"I'm not going to let this go."

"Fine," Steve said with irritation, "I will go to the ER and get patched up. _After_ I go back to HQ and wrap up the case. Some of this stuff can't wait for me to sit on my ass for hours."

Danny huffed; it was hardly a compromise at all. "The little cut looks like a knife wound. Did you get that from that Asesino bastard I saw you push off the boat?"

"Yep."

"So… You were _stabbed_ and you still won't go to the ER?"

"It was a short blade and a bad mark. The wound is less than an inch deep," Steve replied, sounding oddly unconvinced by his own words.

"Yeah? What happens when your adrenaline wears off and you pass out from blood loss?"

"Have you ever seen me run out of adrenaline?"

Danny paused to give it a thought. "You're right. Fine, you shmuck, you can go to HQ and do _twenty minutes _of work and call whoever the hell is important enough to call while injured. Then you will go to the ER or I will drag you there myself."

"Fine."

"By the way, Steve… thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving Grace's life," Danny said simply, hoping the words would convey the profound gratitude he felt.

Steve gave him a small salute but said nothing. At this point, they had rounded the ship and spotted Chin, Kono, and Grace. Grace looked up from her game, squealed with delight, and ran the last few yards to Steve.

Danny was impressed; Steve, despite the pain his side must be causing him, swooped down and swung the girl into his arms. She hugged him tight, and he hugged back, his huge body engulfing hers so that all Danny could see were two thin arms wrapped around Steve's neck. He smiled a little, glad that Grace and her uncle could have a moment. He had saved her life, and so Danny owed him his own.

Shifting the girl to his other side, Steve gave Kono a one armed hug and shook Chin's hand.

After the rather emotional reunion, Danny decided it was high time his completely ridiculous partner got _back_ to the office and did whatever the hell he needed to so that Danny could ship him off to the ER. Although Steve seemed fine- if a little banged up- to an outside party, Danny knew better; Steve's side was hurting him more than he let on and the nice gash in his head was just a little nasty, what with the brilliant bruise and blood caking the side of his forehead.

Chin and Kono made their way back to the Camero. Danny made no effort to follow; he knew better than to let Steve drive in the condition he denied he was in. Giving Chin a look, he let the other man nod and slide into the driver's seat as Danny followed his partner and daughter to the truck.

Steve turned around on the pretense of handing Grace off to her father when he noticed Danny in his wake.

"You have a car, you know," he said with a raised brow.

"One, my daughter is clinging to you like a leech. Two, you're a bad enough driver as it is."

"I'm offended."

"I don't much care. Give me your keys."

Steve sighed and did not move to hand Danny anything. His eyes got an all too familiar far away look, and Danny wanted to bang his head against the ground in frustration.

"What the hell is it this time, McGarrett?"

"Let it go, Danny."

"That's like telling the sky not to be blue."

Danny raised his face upward to the bright blue Hawaiian ski and had just opened his mouth when Danny cut him off.

"Don't do it, you moron! Why do I get the feeling you're going to do something stupid?"

Instead of answering him, Steve turned to address Gracie, who was still resting comfortably on his hip.

"Hey kiddo," he said, smiling down at her, "how would you like to spend the afternoon with Danno and Uncle Chin and Aunt Kono?"

"Really?" She replied, eyes lighting up in childish delight. Steve nodded. "Oh, I'd love to! Please, Danno? Please please pleeeaase?"

"Of course, Monkey," Danny said without thinking about what the hell Steve was up to.

"Will you come too, Uncle Steve?"

"I'd love to, Gracie, but I have to go home and get a bandaid first, kay?"

She nodded, content.

"Go buckle yourself in, Kiddo. Danno will be there in a sec." she nodded, gave Steve a kiss on the cheek, and jumped down to run to the Camero.

Danny turned to his partner, who was following Grace's movements with a watchful eye.

"What the hell was that?"

Steve's eyes made their way to Danny, and Danny saw the resign in them. It was an odd look, considering all the good that had happened in the recent past.

"She deserves an afternoon with her dad, Danny."

"Yeah, and you need to go to the hospital."

Steve rolled his eyes at his partner, but the look was lessened by the haze of pain. "I will," he said.

"You're lying."

Steve paused and gave Danny a very familiar, but still strange look. It was the same expressionless, slightly deadened, glance he'd given he partner during the last case- seconds before he dropped to the ground from a bullet wound.

"You're right," he said finally. Danny wanted to whoop for joy at Steve finally admitting it, but the words themselves stopped him; they were full of an odd sort of calm that was so unlike the ADD Commander. Danny quirked a brow at the taller man, his stomach inexplicably filling with lead.

"I usually am… why won't you go to the hospital?"

"I want to see the beach."

"You know you're not supposed to snort the cocaine that was shipped in, right? You're not making any sense."

"You should leave with your daughter, Danny."

"Are you actually high? What the hell is wrong with you?" Danny asked, frustrated that Steve was being even more unhelpful than usual.

Steve sighed, and his eyes went just a little bit glossy. The pain was getting to him- that much was obvious. He turned to the Camero and gave Chin a long look. He nodded, and turned around to the back seat to talk to Gracie. A second later, the car pulled away from them and began to drive down the road toward the highway.

"What the hell, McGarrett?" Danny asked, giving the man a glare. The expression died when he saw how weary his partner looked. "Where are they taking Grace?"

"HQ."

"And we're still here because…"

"You wanted to know what my problem was."

"Right," Danny said, nodding. "Tell me."

"You know," Steve began, looking away from him and up at the huge ships, "this is not how I imagined this would end. I was _supposed_ to end the day getting my ass kicked by angry gangbangers-"

"Which happened anyways."

"… I suppose," Steve agreed, surprising Danny with his lack of a witty response, "but still… I was supposed to go deeper with the Asesinos if I could, and fight my way out if I couldn't. I wasn't going to come back to work on Monday. I was going to be out playing Super Spy as you so cleverly put it."

"Okay…" Danny began slowly, trying to wrap his head around what Steve was saying, "but the case ended with you saving my daughter's life. Congrats. Now you can come to work on Monday."

Steve gave a tired, slightly desolate chuckle and swayed a little on his feet. Danny moved a little closer to catch him if he fell.

"No I can't."

"Oh? And why is that? Need an extra day to recuperate? You know, if you go to the hospital, I bet the doctor will give you a note and everything-" Danny replied with a hint of irritation before Steve cut him off.

"He poisoned it."

"Uh… what?"

"The guy I fought on the boat. He poisoned the blade."

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again when nothing came out. _Poisoned_? His mind felt sluggish around the word.

Suddenly, Steve swayed violently and was forced to sit down on the ground. That did it; the words sunk into him with all the ferocity of a speeding bullet. He sat down next to his partner, his eyes wide and staring.

"Poisoned?"

"Yeah."

"Like a pirate? Or a goddamn spy novel?" The idea was just so ludicrous. It didn't make sense. It wasn't true…

"Yeah."

"How… how do you know?"

"I've felt it before."

Danny jumped up and turned with the intention of helping his partner up. His movements were broken and jerky and his hands shook ever so slightly.

"We have to go to the hospital then!" He cried, bending down to try and yank his partner off the cement, "they can help you. They can… you have to get up, Steve!" He heard his voice waver.

Still Steve didn't move. He seemed to be fading in and out of focus. Danny wasted no time; he whipped out his newly untraceable cell and punched in 9-1-1. When the operator asked for his information, Danny barked out the need for an ambulance while not looking away from his partner's face- which was looking more and more ashen.

"It won't help, Danny. It's too late."

"IT'S NOT TOO LATE!" Danny cried back, his eyes starting to sting just a little. He felt his chest constrict. Not again; he wasn't going to lose another partner! Not this time. "You felt the effects before and lived. You can do it again."

Steve looked up at his partner with a small, sympathetic smile on his face. It made Danny want to hit him; he had _no_ right to feel sorry for Danny. Not when… not when…

"How did you survive?"

Steve lifted his pant leg ever so slightly to pull down the top of his shoe and show Danny his ankle. Just above the joint was an ugly mass of scar tissue that marred his flesh; it was indented as though someone had taken a spoon to it.

"They cut it out," Danny breathed, still staring at the wound. Steve nodded and replaced the cloth that hid the scar. He began to sway more, even while sitting. Danny almost fell over in an effort to catch him. It ended with Danny kneeling on the ground and Steve laying flat on his back with his right hand still on his side.

"You son of a bitch," Danny said to him, feeling the first rebel tear ooze out of his eye. Steve smiled slightly. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Nothing you can do, Danno. It's-"

"It is _not_ too late, you bastard! It won't be too late until you stop breathing and I won't let that happen."

Steve grimaced but gave Danny an oddly reassuring look.

"It's okay," he said, his voice beginning to sound a little weaker, "this is okay, Danny."

"How can you say that? What the hell were you going to do, McGarrett?"

"Go home. I told you… wanted to see the beach." Steve began to close his eyes. Danny shook him violently.

"Stay awake, Rambo. The medics are coming." His partner gave another small smile but did not open his eyes. Danny found only a faint pulse; Steve was fading. _Where the hell is the fucking medic_? Danny wanted to scream at someone.

"You are _not _going to die on me, you understand? I'm not burying another partner!"

"Sorry Danno." Steve opened his eyes to half mast again. He raised his left hand- his right was otherwise occupied- and gave the man a very small salute.

The hand dropped, and Steve's eyes closed. The pulse Danny had been feeling gave one last feeble beat, and then lay still against his fingers.

Exactly one heartbeat passed before Danny started doing chest compressions. He hoped to hell it wasn't one heartbeat too late.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I really hope the end to that last chapter didn't cause anybody to hack my account and hunt me down. I'm honestly not sure what happened. I was trying to think of what I'd done the least, and poison seemed to be the most viable option.

SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! I had it completed and the updates scheduled. And then I looked at the conclusion chapter and decided I hated it, so I scratched it and wrote another. Be glad… you wouldn't have liked it either.

Thanks again for such wonderful reviews. I've considered a sequel, but I'm all about beating the shit out of Steve and I've basically exhausted that part of this story arc- so this might be it kiddies. If there is some sort of demand for a sequel, you tell me what YOU want and I'll cater to your wants and needs.

This is it, by the way. The finale. The last chapter. Hopefully the conclusion is alright. I wanted to leave with a bang, but I didn't want to disappoint.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

"He's dead."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. Literally, he's dead. No heartbeat. No blood flow. He's dead."

"Danny, you're being unreasonable-"

Kono couldn't get another word in after that; she was startled into silence when Danny sprang out of his seat and began to pace the room irritably. The shark smack of his dress shoes on the linoleum floor rang out against the otherwise oppressive silence. Kono watched him warily from the seat next to the one he'd just vacated, but she said nothing else. Danny didn't know if he appreciated it or secretly craved her empty words of comfort.

Kono began to shake ever so slightly, but the movement still caught Danny's eye. He stopped pacing when he realized she was just as upset and impatient and pissed off as he was. He moved back to his chair and put an arm around her, hoping he could offer comfort without having to churn out out falsely hopeful bullshit.

Kono leaned into him gratefully. Having her weight against his chest and her warmth seep into him let Danny relax a little so that he no longer felt the inexplicable urge to walk around angrily and punch something.

The clock on the wall opposite him ticked and tocked with irritable repetitiveness, as though it served no greater purpose than to remind Danny of how much time they had spent in that bare and desolate limbo, waiting for some kind of reassurance.

"Eight," Kono said, also glancing at the device- though she seemed not to have the terrible rage toward it that Danny did. "I can't believe it's been seven hours. No news is good news I suppose." She sighed.

"No news means that they just haven't decided the best way to remove the body yet, Kono." Danny's voice shook audibly. Whether it was out of anger or sheer agony, not even he knew.

Kono, her had still resting against his favorite pinstriped shirt, looked up to eye him beneath her full lashes.

"You're not usually so pessimistic, Danny," she said. Her eyes tightened in stress just a little, but it alerted Danny to just how much his words were getting to her.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, deflating. "It's just… you didn't see it. It wasn't like last time, Kono; he was ready to die on that dock. He was all set to let us go on our merry way and just sit down and let his life slip away from him. He wanted to go to the _fucking _beach."

"He's strong, Danny," she replied, taking his hand in her own. "He'll pull through."

"He's a ninja; I'm sure his _body _will pull through. The question is… does he really want to?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, he was set to let this poison eat away at him and kick the bucket all alone. It makes you wonder what the hell he was thinking when he decided we weren't worth telling. It makes _me_ wonder if he really has anything to come back to." Danny looked away from Kono and at the sterile and bland walls around him. This was purgatory, and Danny hated it.

Kono sat up suddenly and let Danny's hand fall listlessly to his side. She turned to look his face full on and would not speak until Danny's eyes met her own.

"He will pull through, Danny!" She said forcefully, her hands reaching out to shake him harshly. "He's going to come back to us because we're family, and family means we never, _ever_ give up on each other."

Danny didn't know what to say, really. Here was Kono, the rookie, telling him exactly how it was going to be. He supposed she simply knew more about family than he ever could hope to understand.

"Did you ever wonder that the reason he didn't want to tell us was that he didn't want to put us through that? Did you ever think he was just looking out for his family?" Kono's voice trailed away, but Danny heard every word.

He sighed. He _hadn't _considered that at all. But, looking back on it, it would be typical McGarrett fashion to think of others to his dying breath. Danny cringed; he shouldn't have gone there.

Danny and Kono broke eye contact when Chin's brightly colored shirt assaulted their periphery vision. The loud Hawaiian print clashed horribly with the drab white walls and speckled floors as Chin moved to sit on Danny's other side, and the sight made everybody smile just a little.

Chin sighed, his eyes cast down, and asked, "What's the latest?"

"He's dead."

Kono smacked Danny hard in the harm. He yelped, and turned to glare at her while rubbing the bruised limb.

"He's not dead, Chin," Kono affirmed, glancing at her cousin. Danny wanted to point out that, technically, yes he was, but he figured his pessimism would become infectious.

"What's going on then? What's taking so long?"

Kono, much like Danny had a moment prior, sighed monumentally.

"The poison was moving too fast so… so they froze him."

"Froze him?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They cooled him off to slow the blood flow and then they stopped his heart and put him on bypass. Last we heard, the doctors were making small incisions into various arteries throughout his chest and removing the blood and then giving him periodic transfusions. That was-" she checked her watch- "four hours ago."

Danny felt restless again. His legs seemed determined to move, and he found himself bouncing up and down in his seat like an impatient child. Hearing Kono's retelling of what the doctors had explained made everything too real. With the doctors and their complex medical terminology, it was much easier to pretend it was just a bad soap opera. With Kono, it was as real as the scuffed up shoes on his feet, and the reality hurt a lot more than the illusion that he could turn everything off like it _was_ crappy television.

Chin's dark eyes stormed up ever so slightly at his cousin's words, but when Danny blinked it was gone and Chin was calm again.

There was very little else to say, but the silence was too oppressive to stand, so instead they filled it with menial chatter to help ease the pain of waiting for _something _in this nightmarishly bright place.

"What happened to Grace?" Kono asked Danny, turning back to let her expressive eyes bore into him.

"She went home with a deputy. Summers, right?" He turned to Chin- who was with Gracie last- for conformation. Chin nodded.

"Oh…"

The silence descended upon the three like a woolen blanket; it settled into discomfort and it was almost hard to breathe. Danny supposed that, now, there was nothing to do but wait for a doctor to come through the door with an expression of relief or pained sympathy. Danny didn't know if the next words he would hear would be of celebration or comfort, but he hoped to hell that it was the former.

Thinking back on the exhausting day, he was shocked that it had been a little more than twelve hours since it began. Twelve hours ago, he was getting out of a car on the docks with a partner in full health and a daughter that hadn't been taken by a man he'd come to respect. Twelve hours ago the day was quasi- normal. It took half a day for Danny to find himself exactly where he was just months ago, waiting in a godforsaken linoleum and white walled room for some kind of news on a man he'd come to call a true friend.

He glanced over at Chin on one side, who was staring blankly at the white wall in front of him as his eyes narrowed in deep thought, and then turned to his other side to see Kono playing idly with a strand of hair while she bit her lip. Her words sunk into him as he watched lithe fingers slide over strands of silky hair… _you ever think he was just looking out for his family_? Danny understood in that moment what she was talking about; he too would die for his team without a second thought. He understood why Steve did what he did, and thanked…_ someone_… that the Commander did not get the chance to follow through.

The obnoxious ticking of the clock made Danny's head pound. Each second was made audible in the pressing silence, and each one was like a tiny step closer to an end Danny wasn't sure he was ready for.

He was seconds away from standing up again and bolting outside with a half formed excuse on his lips when his plan was foiled by a man. It wasn't just any man, either; it was a surgeon. A surgeon who wore pale blue scrubs covered in periodic splotches of red that had soaked into the fabric, staining it. This man had bags under his eyes, and his hand shook slightly as he moved to shake all of theirs in quick succession. His face remained impassive, but Danny could do nothing but hope that the doctor was aloof by nature and not because he was the bearer of bad news.

"I assume you are the family of Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett," he said, looking at each of them in turn. They nodded, but said nothing. Danny could fell the tension emanating from the four people in the room as though it someone invisible was beating them violently with it.

A moment passed, and then the doctor spoke.

"He's alive." The first words caused the tension to sink into the ground and out of sight. Kono sagged in relief, and Chin let his lips curve up into a small smile. Danny did very little. All he could think was _he's alive_ in a relieved sort of way; the man who had been trying _very_ hard to kick the bucket for the better part of the day was alive and… not well, but not dead either.

"How bad is it?" He asked, hating that he was the one to pop the question.

"Bad," the doctor replied without preamble. "The poison spread too quickly to counteract without cooling him. One his heart was stopped and he was on bypass, the movement was slower but it still spread fast enough to necessitate going into his chest and removing a lot of blood."

Danny tapped his foot quietly against the floor; he already _knew_ all of this.

"It took us hours," the doctor continued, noting Danny's impatience, "but we managed to remove the poison from his system and replace the lost blood. It's a miracle, but we also didn't have to leave permanent scarring with the incisions because we managed to remove the poison through the wounds the commander had already sustained."

"It doesn't sound so bad, doc," Chin said, eyeing the doctor with his penetrating gaze, "What aren't you telling us?"

The doctor sighed and fidgeted a little with the surgical cap in his hands. Danny noted the man's reluctance to say anything and braced himself for the worst. Was it amputation? Permanent immobility? Would the Commander need a transplant?

"The poison began to break down bone and blood tissue and basically everything in its path the second it entered Commander McGarrett's body. Luckily the major organs and larger arteries sustained no lasting damage… the extremities weren't so lucky."

"You said you removed all the poison."

"We did. We just didn't do it fast enough."

Kono's eyes filled with water, and a great big drop leaked out. "Did he lose a limb?" She asked shakily, thinking- as they all were- that such a thing would end the Commander's career and, by extension, life.

"God no!" The doctor replied, surprised. "It wasn't so serious. The poison did, however, eat away at several small but vital arteries in the Commander's body… You are going to see lasting damage from this incident."

"Like what?" Danny asked, beginning to become agitated at the doctor before him.

"His left hand in particular was affected- the poison destroyed the major vein in the wrist. Commander McGarrett will experience fluctuating numbness from insufficient blood flow. Beyond that, the poison infected a very small vein in the spinal chord, one that controls the release of certain chemicals into the brain. Because the vein no longer functions properly, the Commander's brain will be flooded with either too much or too little of the chemicals he need. In short, expect chronic, very severe migraines."

"What if he already has migraines?" Danny asked. Kono gave him a sideways look of surprise, but Chin just nodded in affirmation.

"There going to be a hundred times worse."

"All the time?"

"I can't say, but honestly I doubt it. The body will rejuvenate, and in time there's a chance of a complete recovery. Just don't expect it in the near future."

There was a long pause after this as the teammates waited for more and the doctor waited for Five-0 to say something, too.

"That's it?" Chin asked. The doctor looked taken aback.

"Yes. That's it."

Danny couldn't help it; he burst out laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes. Kono giggled, too, and Chin grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Find something amusing about the Commander's suffering?" The doctor asked, annoyed. Danny calmed down and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Sorry doc. It's just- well- you don't know him very well. Steve McGarrett walked through the jungle on a leg with a crushed femur. He's a smartass even when he's been shot, and he thinks a nice taser to then neck is an appropriate way to start the morning off right. Some numbness and horrific headaches? McGarrett will think it's more amusing than we did. Trust me, he's going to suffer in silence if he has to and still be a BAMF at work the second you let him out of this hospital. It's going to be MY problem to deal with this, not his."

The doctor looked Danny up and down. "You seem fond of him."

"He's a crazy, self sacrificing, reckless SEAL maniac, but he's also a good man. He saved my daughter's life today, doc."

"You sure about this? You sure he's going to just get up and walk out of here? Injuries like this can cause a huge psychological toll on patients, especially those who have experienced ones like it before."

Kono smirked at the man, and he seemed to sweat a little under its intensity.

"Trust us, doc. We know the guy."

* * *

The good doctor let the team in to see their commander even though visiting hours had long since passed. With Chin in the lead, they filed into Steve's quiet room. As he passed over the threshold, Danny felt a wave of déjà vu wash over him; a few short months ago he was doing much the same thing when another mission much like the one that day ended with a bullet lodged in Steve's chest.

Danny shook it off and continued into the room. Much like the last time, Steve was uncomfortably still and… not himself. He was pale, and looked deathly as he lay on the hospital bed, completely unmoving. Danny had to rely on the machines to tell him that his partner was alive; the constant beep was the only affirmation of a heartbeat that, until a short time ago, didn't even exist.

Bandages were wrapped around Steve's otherwise uncovered torso, but someone had been decent enough to find the unconscious man a pair of scrub pants. Danny was eternally grateful; Steve would bitch about having to wear a gown.

The cut on the Commander's forehead was stitched and the bruise around it stuck out against his pale face but was lost in his dark hair. Danny was relieved to see that Steve was breathing on his own, and had no more assistance than a nasal canal. He chanced a look at his partner's left hand, and noted that it was already almost white from bad circulation. It seems Kono's thoughts paralleled his own, because she gave him a nod and sat down at the seat next to the bed to massage the appendage.

Danny joined Chin on the couch under the window. No words were exchanged for the moment, as all three of them watched in contented silence with thoughts of recovery.

Finally, Kono sighed and turned to face her teammates.

"What?" Chin asked her with concern.

"Do you really think he'll be alright?" She asked, sounding uncertain. "I mean, we told the doctor that he would bounce right back even considering the chronic injuries, but I'm starting to second guess myself."

Danny hated to admit that he felt the exact same way. He had laughed at the idea of Steve being permanently damaged by this mission, but the harsh reality was that he laughed only because the idea of Steve _not_ coming back to work was ludicrous. The idea of Steve being anything but intensely trigger happy and constantly in action was disturbing in its own right. But he still knew that Steve be the exact same as he was before, even if- god forbid- he was constantly in pain from blinding headaches or a useless left hand.

"He's going to be okay, Kono, because he has to be," Danny replied as he placed a hand gently on her knee. "Even if he is in terrible pain, we won't ever know about it. He's going to be okay and he's going to come back to work as soon as he possibly can because this is all he knows how to do. He'll keep doing it no matter the lack of feeling in his hand or a horrible headache, because that's who he is."

Kono's shoulders relaxed at the thought, but her face instead morphed into a knowing smile.

"The doc was right; you _are_ fond of your crazy ass maniacal partner, Danny." Chin smirked at his cousin's words.

Danny merely shrugged. "He do nothing but annoy the hell out of me as soon as he wakes up," he assured them, his words unconvincing even in his own ears, "but right now all I can think about is how he saved Grace's life. I owe him everything."

The cousins nodded in understanding. Silence descended once more, but it lasted only for a few seconds before Danny remembered and jumped up from the couch.

"Where are you going?" Chin asked.

"To see the governor," Danny replied, still moving determinedly to the door. "She needs to know about the case. And she needs to know that Steve is no longer available for random, dangerous black ops missions. Or _working the other side_. Or anything that could possibly end up with him pretending to be a criminal. OR- hell- anything that involves orders to kill shady people from the U.S. government. You know what? I'm just going to ask her to deflect _everything_ that comes from the U.S. government to another super ninja SEAL who is ready and willing to die for god and country. Like Nick Taylor. I'll just ask her to find a whole slew of Nick Taylors to come and do any mission Steve would otherwise be responsible for."

"You know Nick Taylor betrayed his county and sabotaged the mission, right?" Chin asked.

"Not my problem," Danny replied.

"Steve's going to bitch."

"Also not my problem."

"How is that _not_ your problem?"

"He's unconscious."

Danny winked at Chin, turned on his heel, and marched swiftly out of the room.

* * *

The governor was less than thrilled that this was the first anyone had contacted her about the mission. She complained loudly about a general lack of respect for authority. When Danny told her that Steve was in the hospital barely clinging to life, she at first exploded, but quickly cooled off and told Danny she was very sorry and that she would come by as soon as she possibly could.

With that part over, Danny asked the woman as nicely as possibly to _stop_ agreeing to let the US give missions to a SEAL in the reserves. He'd refrained from the rest of it only because the woman had readily agreed the moment he'd suggested the idea. She believed, as Danny did, that Steve was a danger to himself whenever he worked the other side.

_Well that was easy, _he thought as he made his way back to his apartment, _I barely had to say anything. _

It was well after nine by the time Danny got back to his apartment, and the long day was finally catching up with him, sapping him of his adrenaline and leaving him utterly exhausted. He had to drag his feet through the door and he _practically_ fell into the couch the moment it entered his line of sight. He knew he should go back to the hospital. He knew he should go back and be there for his partner. But he was just so _tired._

He let his eyes close, thinking to himself that it was just for a moment. Just a moment. The world fell away as he sunk into a restful oblivion. But it was just for a moment…

_Ring. Ring. RIIIIIINNNNNG! _The blaring sound of the cell phone next to his ear made Danny jerk awake. He sat up quickly, but regretted it a second later when his aching neck protested. Working out the kinks, he fished around for the phone he'd knocked away from him in annoyance. Finally finding it wedged between two cushions, he answered as politely as he could.

"Yeah?" His voice was scratchy from disuse and grouchy from a lack of sleep.

"_Morning sunshine,"_ Chin said, his voice much more pleasant.

_Morning? _Danny looked around to find that, indeed, sunshine was filtering through his thin curtains.

"Damn. What time is it?"

"_Nine thirty," _Chin replied, sounding bemused.

"Wow. I slept for twelve hours. That's impressive."

"_No kidding. What cop sleeps that long? Anyway, Kono and I spent the night with _your_ partner while you slept in your own bed, so we're calling to demand to be relieved of our duties for the morning. The doc said Steve won't wake up until evening at the earliest, so we figured he'd be okay if we left him alone for a few hours." _

Danny laughed despite the lingering grouchiness. "For the record," he replied, "I slept on the couch. But I commend you guys for your resilience. Go ahead and head home. I'll get cleaned up and head over there myself as soon as possible."

"_Thanks brah, we appreciate it."_

"Course. I honestly don't think Steve will miss you."

"_Speaking of Steve _not_ being aware of things we do for him while he's unconscious in the hospital, how did the meeting with the governor go?"_

Danny allowed himself a slightly feral grin. "Good. She's in full accordance of the plan. Steve is officially, I hope, off the hook."

"_Good. I don't think quarterly trips to the hospital are good for his health. Or ours." _

"No kidding. If it happens again, I'm going to follow him into the afterlife and beat him senseless with a copy of _The SEAL's guide to survival_." With that, he bid Chin adieu and hung up.

It took him half an hour to make it back to the hospital, but he could have taken two hours and it wouldn't have made a difference. Steve was still out cold.

Steeling himself in for a long afternoon, he put his feet up on the edge of Steve's bed and commandeered the TV remote (Steve wouldn't need it) to try and find some kind of sports nourishment to sustain him. He struck gold when he stumbled upon a Yankee- Red Sox game, top of the second, with no outs and Yankees up by two runs already. Smiling contentedly to himself, even if it wasn't his home team, he settled in.

He'd made it well into the afternoon watching the game and the post- game discussions, and wasn't disturbed by anyone other than a nurse who came to check Steve's monitors and change his IV. Finally, though, his rumbling stomach and rather full bladder necessitated a leave of absence from the bedside.

Standing and stretching out his stiff legs, he patted Steve on the arm and said, "Don't wake up while I'm gone. That's really going to piss me off." Checking his watch and noting that it was already five- well into the estimated time of Steve's return to the world of the living- he vowed to make his expedition quick, and hurried out of the room.

* * *

_He felt like lead. Like his body was made of metal and he sat at the bottom of the ocean while the pressure of the water pressed relentlessly against him. He wanted to move, but every attempt was thwarted by the pressure of the sea. He was in no pain, but the deep water was quite enough discomfort; it was smothering him. _

_Disjointed voices floated around him through the water. Laughing voices. Concerned voices. The moved in and out of earshot as though they were riding on the waves above where he lay in this oppressive hell. _

_He wanted to join them. To break the surface of the water and float, as they surely were. But he could not. _

_The voices he was sure he wanted to be with began to fade away entirely until there was nothing but the silence the sea around him to keep him company. He felt lost to the world above him. _

_A pinprick of pain. Just behind the eyes. And then a pounding in his head. And an ache in his chest. _

_No, no. This should not be happening. He shouldn't be in pain. There was no pain here. _

_But there it was; the terrible ache spread throughout his body until he could not take it any longer. He felt himself rising to the surface, closer and closer…_

Steve thought he would resurface with a great, shuddering gasp for air. But, as it turns out, most of that energy was used to crack open his heavy eyelids. After a considerable effort, he managed to pry them to at least half mast and blink once or twice.

"Aah, Commander. So glad you could join me. I was worried reducing your morphine so much would leave you in too much pain to function." The voice was so unlike the others he had been hearing; it was sinister and cold. Steve's mind worked overtime as he fought to remember why he was in the hospital, for the smell of antiseptic and the feel of death was a dead giveaway. Morphine circulating in his system left him feeling very silly, as though he was floating on a cloud. He worked very hard to think about how he came to be there.

_I was on a mission. The docks… Danno… Grace… a sharpshooter. And then poison. Oh, yeah. That. _

The events leading up to that moment fell gently into place in his mind. He remembered fighting on the docks, and hiding the poison from Danny. And then he remembered sitting down. But everything else after that was nothing more than a foggy, painfully indistinct jumble of colors and sounds. He was surprised by his memory, especially since he could feel the slowing, hazy effects of the pain meds still in his system. It made him loopy.

Oh, yeah. The voice. The sinister one. Steve tried to sit up, but found that exceedingly difficult when he couldn't feel his left hand, and a blinding pain shot through his right side.

"Easy there, Commander. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." The voice sounded bemused, but Steve still had no face to place it with.

Finally managing to sit up at least partially, ignoring the pain in his side, the odd numbness in his hand, and the first signs of sensitivity to light, he looked upon his visitor. The man was seedy looking, with slicked back hair and a sneer plastered across his face. He was dressed like a gangbanger. He _was_ a gangbanger. Steve caught sight of the tattoo on his left arm that screamed _Asesino_. His mind tried to tell him what that meant, but the drugs were slowing him down.

What was an Asesino doing in his hospital room?...

Oh yeah. He'd killed their leader. Two of them.

Even as he felt residual pain medication slow him down and leave him feeling like a strung out college kid, he understood that much.

Steve was well aware that, sitting in a hospital bed sporting nothing but scrub pants and a very fashionable IV, tweaked out on meds, and very weak to boot, he was at quite a disadvantage.

"What do you want?" He asked, making his best attempt at menacing and cringing internally when the words lacked any real power. He couldn't help but notice just how alone he was in his hospital room. Where were the voices he'd been hearing? Where was his team?

The man laughed. "I am just here to give you a message from my new boss," he replied.

"Well, that sounds ominous," Steve said with a lackluster air. So many people had tried to kill him up to that point, so what was one more, really?

The seedy looking man gave another dry chuckle as he fished around in his pockets for something. "I like you, Commander," he said. "It's really a shame that I'm going to have to kill you."

Steve waved him off noncommittally, even as the clear part of his mind told him that it was the drugs that made him do it. "Nah," he said to the man, "you wouldn't have like me at full health. I'm not nearly as pleasant."

"That's really too bad," the Asesino replied. With a flourish he produced a wicked looking, standard issue military grade gun. It was sleek and shiny, and Steve couldn't help but admire it.

"You know," he said, "I think I have one just like that." He cocked his head, looking at the item.

"Do you now? Do you know you're going to die from one, as well?"

Steve just shrugged a little. "It makes sense. I _am_ in the military after all."

The man gave a last laugh and pointed the gun at Steve. Steve himself knew he ought to feel frightened or angry or _something, _but all he could feel was the pain in his side and the high from the residual drugs.

"Steve?" Both patient and mercenary turned toward the door. Danny stood on the threshold with a gun just like the Asesino's, and this one was pointed at the man in question much like _his_ was aimed at Steve. The Commander felt an oddly timed surge of delight at the sight of his partner.

"Danno!" He cried, smiling brightly. Danny gave him an odd look, but did not move his gun from the other man.

"What do you want?" Danny sneered.

"I already asked, Danno. He's supposed to kill me." Steve frowned, his mind processing the words. "Come to think of it, I think I'm supposed to be freaked out about it."

Danny rolled his eyes at his partner. "How high are you right now?"

"Um… Pretty high I think. I would feel better if _this_ guy hadn't reduced the morphine." Steve stuck his tongue out at the gangbanger. Danny chuckled a little.

"Look, whoever the hell you are," he said to the other gunman, "I've tried _really_ hard to keep this man alive for the last two days. I would be very unhappy if he died now. So I have no qualms about killing you right here in this hospital. Put down your gun, slowly, and I won't have to splatter your brains all over my friend here."

The man looked uncertain about his position. Steve thought it was probably time to pipe up.

"I would do it," he said, giving the man a very concerned look. "Danny never goes back on a promise, you know. It won't end well."

The man hesitated just a little, and then began to lower his gun. Danny moved in at the first sight of the man's surrender and had him on the ground in seconds.

Steve couldn't help it. He gave the man on the floor a dispassionate look and said, "Book 'em, Danno."

"I'm only letting you off the hook because you're strung out," Danny said, glaring lightly. Steve grinned.

Hauling the man upright and leading him out the door, he turned to Steve And said, "Stay," with discernible authority.

Steve gave Danny a smirk. "Where am I going to go?"

* * *

By the time Danny handed the gunman off to HPD and returned to Steve's room, the man had been alone for more than an hour. Luckily, he'd fallen back asleep and had been unable to cause _more_ damage to himself.

Danny had been sitting down for less than a minute before Steve let out a groan and blinked awake.

"Good morning sunshine," Danny said, echoing Chin's words.

"It's night."

"I see you're less cheery than when I left." Danny wanted to laugh at his partner's grumpy looking face.

"The doc took me off morphine completely. He said it was better for my body that way."

Danny perked up. "The doctor came by?" He asked. "What else did he say?"

"That I was lucky to be alive. That the poison ate away at important arteries. That my left hand is going to be messed up and I'm going to have horrible migraines from now own."

Danny nodded in understanding. "How are you holding up?"

Steve sighed and glanced down at his almost white left hand. He shook it out and Danny was pleased when a little color came back. "I'm fine," Steve said, "all things considered."

"Well… that's good to hear because we were worried there for a while. That you weren't going to bounce back. _I _was worried."

"That's so sweet of you Danno."

"Shut up, I'm being serious." Steve sobered. "You were going to let yourself die, McGarrett. You were all set to send my on my merry way and die on your own. Why the hell would you think that would be okay?"

Steve gave Danny a long look, as though scrutinizing the man. "You did really well today, Danny."

"You're avoiding the subject."

"No, I'm just stating fact." He paused. "I-I didn't tell you because I knew- or at least I thought at the time- that there was nothing you could do. I didn't want you to have to be a part of that."

"So you though it would be better to wander off alone and die?"

"In all fairness, I wouldn't have gone very far."

"Clearly." Danny gave a disgruntled sound and glared at his partner. "You are ridiculous, you know that?"

"I beg to differ."

"Of course you do. I don't much care, though, because from now on someone else is going to take over all of your secret spy-"

"I'm not a spy."

"You're right. Spies don't get the shit kicked out of them nearly as much."

"I'm hurt."

"Quit changing the subject. Someone else can do it, Steve. Someone who doesn't insist on putting every other life before their own."

Steve eyed Danny warily. "I'm pretty sure we all do that. It's written in the handbook."

"You're funny."

"What can I say, it's a gift." Steve stopped and sat up slightly. His right hand fluttered to his head and he closed his eyes very tightly. Danny knew what was happening; it was the first of many migraines to come for his partner.

"You okay?"

Steve nodded.

"Bullshit." Danny quickly made his way to the wall and turned the lights off before hitting the call button next to the switch.

"Thanks," Steve offered, eyes still closed. A nurse entered the room and jabbed a needle into his IV, and he relaxed.

Danny patted his leg and sat back down.

"Anytime, buddy."

* * *

Steve knew what was coming. He always knew. There was the first pinprick of pain behind his eyes, and then the telltale nausea. Soon most light would feel like he was being stabbed in the cornea and his head would begin to pound like crazy. He knew it. And he knew it because it happened almost every day.

He sat back in his chair and put his hands over his eyes, annoyed. Even after a month and a half, the migraines had no signs of stopping. Even after he'd been out of the hospital for five weeks and back at work for four, his head still pounded almost daily. It was very annoying.

The upside, of course, was that- apart from that and residual numbness in his left hand- he was completely healed. His right side had long since stopped aching- though it scarred prettily nastily- and he was back to work fully.

But, of course, that didn't stop him from having those damn headaches almost every day like clockwork. Most days he'd be at home when they hit and he could just sleep it off, but today they'd wrapped up a big case and the paperwork had been immense. He hadn't realized it was so late until his head began to feel like it was being assaulted by a jackknife.

Suddenly, the lights turned off and the terrible jabbing lessened. Steve didn't have to open his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Bullshit." Danny's voice drifted closer until he was sure the other man was standing right next to him. A bottle and two pills were pressed into his hand.

"You should lie down," Danny said, and Steve let his partner help move him to the couch.

Once settled in, he cracked his eye to find Danny leaning back precariously in his office chair.

"Don't break that," he said as though chastising a child. Danny rolled his eyes.

"Is it bad?" He asked.

"Nope."

"You are such a liar."

"Can't you just let me pretend?"

Danny laughed a little. The pounding in Steve's head lessened into a dull throb as the drugs kicked in. He let himself relax.

"Better?"

He nodded.

"What languages do you speak?"

Steve opened his eye again and rolled his head to look at Danny incredulously. "What?"

"What? Last time I drugged you, you told me all kinds of good stuff."

"It's Aspirin, Danny, not Vicodin."

"Couldn't hurt to try. Are you going to tell me?"

Steve resisted rolling his eyes only because it hurt.

"Why do you want to know?" He asked.

"Why don't you want to tell me?" Danny shot back quickly, and Steve could hear the smirk. "I already know four of them- Mandarin, Spanish, Russian, and I think you've mastered English at this point."

"Fine. I speak Hawaiian."

"Oh. I probably could have guessed that. What's the other one?"

"French."

Danny burst out laughing, and Steve mock- glared at him. "You're telling me that big bad SEAL McGarrett speaks the language of love?"

"Ha ha," Steve replied dryly. Danny wiped a mock tear from his eye.

"Who knew you were such a romantic."

"It makes me seem suave. Trust me, nothing scores more points with the ladies than a little French."

Danny sobered up. "You're right," he offered, frowning at the idea. "Good thing your brass attitude drives them away."

"Says the guy who's his ex wife's bitch."

Danny stuck his tongue out at Steve. Steve moved his foot to the office chair and gave it a slight tap, grinning to himself as Danny overbalanced and toppled over.

"Sometimes I wonder why I saved your life, McGarrett," he said from the ground, rubbing his bruised back. Steve chuckled and closed his eyes again.

"Your life would be so _boring _without me."

Fin.

A/N: Thanks for waiting! Trust me, you would have hated the original chapter because, originally, I killed Steve off. I just went back and decided I hated that so I wrote another. Sorry if it was disjointed. And thanks for being such a wonderful audience.

Luna.


End file.
